Put Your Lights On
by klepto-maniac0
Summary: AU. Sephiroth has a child who's just as weird as he deserves. Chapter 111 is posted! The end approaches. Cloud creeps home.
1. Prologue

Put Your Lights On

9.22.05

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done. Or as done as it's going to get, anyway. Yep. :imagines a mailbox full of flames: Oh well.

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Prologue 

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Wutaiese whorehouses smelled weird. That was Rude's first impression as he and Tseng stepped into the Blue Lotus, one of the seedier brothels that clung at the outskirts of Wutai like a dingleberry. The air was thick with opium, a drug Rude had never particularly cared for, and for a moment, Rude wished he smoked—the stench of nicotine and tar was infinitely preferable to the cloying sweetness that was clouding his eyes. Tseng, the newest to the Turks, seemed unaffected. _"Maybe it's a Wutaiese thing,"_ Rude mused as Tseng talked with the Blue Lotus madam in their flowing language.

Rude looked around, the surroundings tinted by his dark glasses. Like nearly everything in post-war Wutai, the Blue Lotus catered to foreign tastes. Religious icons and generic calligraphy were gaudily splashed everywhere, losing the allure of the foreign exotic by their too-shiny finishes and overabundance of gold. Though Rude was just as patriotic as the next guy, seeing the once-feared Wutai on its knees—or on its back, considering the circumstances—made him feel vaguely ill. He could only imagine how Tseng felt: as far as Rude knew, he was a native.

The madam bustled off, her layers of kimonos leaving clouds of heavy perfume in their wake. Rude sneezed, earning a coolly amused look from Tseng.

"She's going to get them now," he said, turning around and putting his hands in his pockets. Though barely twenty-five years old, he stood with the peculiar ease of a trained killer and looked every inch the part in his immaculate blue suit. With his fine-featured face and an expression of cool inscrutability that made Rude turn green with envy, it was no wonder that most people thought Tseng was the senior Turk instead of the other way around. In fact, Tseng had been handling everything during this mission; Rude was with him only to examine his performance in the field.

"Good," Rude said, glancing at the narrow stairway the madam had disappeared into. "The sooner we're out of here, the better. I don't think they like foreigners."

Realizing his blunder, Rude looked at Tseng to see if the svelte Wutaiese man was offended, but Tseng had a faintly sardonic smile of agreement on his face. "No," he said, and glanced up as footsteps echoed above them. "They don't."

Upstairs Rude could hear female voices gabbling. One of them belonged to the madam, her formerly unctuous tones now shrill and whining. The other was harsh, almost a bark, and a third—Rude frowned. It sounded like a very young girl.

"That's them," Tseng said, as if reading Rude's mind. "That's our boss's mistress and their love child."

Rude snorted. He was still getting used to the fact that Sephiroth, Shinra's Head of Peace Enforcement, had a love child at all. He supposed it was possible: Sephiroth was one hell of a chick magnet back in Midgar and there was a chance that the Wutaiese women might have felt the same. Rude, however, doubted it. From what he knew of the Wutaiese, they were crazy loyal to the concept of racial purity and probably saw sleeping with a foreigner as treason. That, Rude realized, aptly explained why Sephiroth's mistress had ended up in a whorehouse. Amazing she wasn't dead.

The hard thump of a walking stick on the stairs made Rude look up, and he suppressed the urge to sneeze as the heavily perfumed madam of the Blue Lotus sashayed down the stairs, her low-tied kimono perfunctorily displaying her flabby attributes. She smiled insincerely at him and Tseng as she stepped off the stairs and spoke to Tseng, motioning behind her. Rude and Tseng glanced up, and behind his dark glasses Rude's eyes widened as he saw the bandaged and crippled woman limping her way down the narrow steps, her hand on the shoulder of a girl no more than seven years old. What the hell had Sephiroth seen in this woman? Rude had to wonder as the woman stepped laboriously off the stairs, and the sick-sweet smell of rotting flesh hit him like a sledgehammer. He resisted the overwhelming impulse to cover his nose, though he sourly noted that the madam had raised one perfumed sleeve to half-cover her face. Tseng, again, seemed unaffected.

The woman glanced first at Tseng and then at Rude. She had been pretty once, Rude realized; now, a smoky blue-black bruise covered nearly all her face and raised the fine veins of it in a grotesque filigree that fluttered in time with her heartbeat. One of her eyes was covered by a bandage, as was her neck, and her drab, loosely tied kimono revealed a well-shaped body that was covered almost entirely in layers of winding gauze. The woman's now dull hair was chopped at her shoulders, fanning into oddly shaped spikes. Her slanted eyes were foxlike instead of feline, and though she was obviously sick and crippled, she held herself as straight as any queen. Rude found himself becoming uncomfortable the longer she looked at him.

"You've come for my girl," she said in a harsh voice, and Rude jumped when he realized that she'd spoken in accentless Continental. What had she been before Sephiroth had gotten to her? Rude had his money on a noblewoman.

"Yes," Tseng said, politely inclining his head. Rude looked at the girl child, who looked back at him with wide, solemn eyes the color of clouded jade. He felt a chill go down his spine as he noted her vertically scored pupils and the absolute lack of emotion in her face; this was the General's child all right.

"Take her," the woman said, squeezing the girl's shoulder briefly before pushing her forward. "The life of a prostitute is not for any daughter of mine."

Tseng held out his hand and the girl walked to him silently, her face still expressionless. Rude was surprised; wasn't she going to put up a fight? Wasn't she going to cry and scream? Where was the "Mommy, what's happening?" Weren't there going to be any tears?

"What's your name?" Tseng asked, looking down at the girl as she slipped her small hand into his.

"Shusaku no Toriko," was the reply. The madam snorted, but the bandaged woman nodded, a smile touching her bruised lips.

"May I call you Tori-chan?" Tseng asked, just as solemn as she.

"No," Toriko said. Rude glanced at her mother, who was smiling still. "Where is my father?" She asked, and Tseng glanced at Rude.

_"What should I tell her?" _His look clearly said. _"Sephiroth didn't send us."_

Rude gave him the faintest of shrugs. Tseng looked back at Toriko, whose unnerving jade eyes were still fixed on him.

"He's in Midgar," Tseng said.

"Did he send you?" Toriko asked.

"Yes." Tseng lied.

Toriko studied him for a long moment and Rude had the eeriest sensation that she could tell Tseng was lying. It surprised him, then, that she looked back at her mother and said a single word. "Sayonara."

"Sayonara," the woman said solemnly, and turned to go back up the stairs.

"Wait," Rude said before he could stop himself. The woman stopped, though she did not turn to look at him. "Aren't you going to hug her goodbye?"

Rude saw the woman's hand tighten on the head of her walking stick. "My illness," she said calmly, "makes any physical contact extremely painful. I've not held Toriko since she was three years old."

Rude looked at Toriko, wondering if that was where her strange coldness came from.

"The General would be more than pleased to send you medicines," Tseng said, and Rude stopped from looking at him, which would have revealed the lie.

"I much doubt that," the woman said, and took a slow, creaking step up the stairs. "He gave no thought to my welfare seven years ago, else he would not have crippled me."

"He crippled you?" Rude asked, frowning.

The woman laughed bitterly. "SOLDIERS don't know their own strength. He broke my hips, and I haven't been able to walk well since." The woman turned slightly on the steps and looked at Toriko, her harsh voice softening. "Tori-chan was a blessing, however. I will...miss you."

Rude looked at Toriko to see her reaction to this reticent confession, but to his surprise, there wasn't one. The tap of a walking cane caught his attention and Rude turned to see the woman limping up the stairs, suddenly deflated. Belatedly he realized he had never caught her name.

"Let's go, Toriko." Tseng said, tugging lightly on Toriko's hand. "Do you have anything you want to carry?"

Toriko shook her head once, an oddly abrupt gesture for so young a child. Then she turned to the perfumed madam and said something that made the woman gasp. To Rude's surprise, Tseng blushed and coughed uncomfortably.

"What did she say?" Rude asked the younger Turk.

"Some extremely unsavory things," Tseng said, tugging again on Toriko's hand. Toriko ignored him and spoke again to the madam, drawing a finger across her neck in a gesture that needed no translation. The madam went as pale as a fish and gabbled in Wutaiese. Apparently she said what Toriko wanted to hear, because the uncanny girl nodded her abrupt nod and turned away, looking up at Tseng through her lashes. Rather than looking cute, Toriko suddenly looked ominous.

"Let us leave this place," she said, and later, Rude could have sworn that she was the one who had led them out of the Blue Lotus, the red-lantern district, and Wutai. The Shin-Ra 'copter he and Tseng had taken from Midgar was waiting for them on the grassy fields a short distance away from the city, and the pilot saluted them as they approached.

"Everything OK, sir?" He asked Tseng, his voice tinged metallic though the air hose as the three of them boarded.

"Yes," Tseng said, picking up Toriko to put her in the helicopter. "No problems."

"Let's go home," Rude said as he pulled himself into the chopper. "Seatbelts," he said automatically as he slid into the co-pilot's seat and strapped himself in. He could hear Tseng and Toriko talking quietly as the chopper doors closed, filling the vehicle with the sound of the rotors warming up. Even in Wutaiese, Toriko sounded too old for her age and Tseng sounded a little rattled: Rude wondered what they were talking about as the chopper lifted off. One word he did catch, however, was the word for 'liar'.

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Author's note:

Prologue is done. Chapter One will be forthcoming. Just to warn you, Sephiroth will be much less than perfect in this story, and some characters will be surprisingly human.

About Toriko, the choice of name was very deliberate. Depending on the way you write her name in kanji, it comes out as "bird girl" or "prisoner of war".

You can guess what Toriko's mother has, but you'll find out in the story anyway.

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	2. Chapter 1

Put Your Lights On

9.22.05

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done. Or as done as it's going to get, anyway. Yep. :imagines a mailbox full of flames: Oh well.

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Chapter One: Four years later

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Sephiroth buttoned up his shirt and pulled on his suit jacket, wincing a little as his latest Mako injection burned its way through his veins. What vitamins were to other people, Mako was to him, giving his freak body essential elements that couldn't be found in nature. But other people's vitamins didn't hurt like fucking hell when they broke down, and as Sephiroth walked stiffly from the too-bright examination room, he knew that if he didn't get home in fifteen minutes, he was going to have to find a room where he could curl up and dry-heave for a while. How he hated these goddamn biannual exams. Hojo gleefully welcomed the chance to have him back under his thumb, if only for three hours twice a year, and as if to make up for lost time he seemed to get more rigorous with every session, overloading Sephiroth's body with tests and measurements that left him feeling sick, tired, or violated. Today it had been a combination of all three as Hojo had yanked on a pair of rubber gloves and proceeded to give him a _very_ thorough examination. If Hojo hadn't been the only one who knew how to fix him if something went wrong, Sephiroth would have killed him a long time ago.

The light cotton of his shirt and jacket rubbed uncomfortably soft and smooth against his skin. It was too fragile to offer him the feeling of omnipotence he felt in his leather coat and turned him into just another Shin-Ra suit. Sephiroth sighed in annoyance as he exited the lab. Ten years ago, he never would have imagined himself a glorified file clerk, spending his days poring over requests for garrison replacements and pensions. The work was mind-numbingly boring, but demanded just enough attention to make blindly signing every paper impossible; and Sephiroth, being himself, had to look over everything himself just to make sure things were going right. He needed a secretary to weed out the deadfall, the things he could pass off to other departments. _"Oh god," _he realized with a sinking feeling. _"I'm starting to think like a bureaucrat."_

A large rectangle of gleaming metal caught his eye and Sephiroth slowed, turning to look at the foot-thick steel door that had once been the gate to his prison. Usually open, the door was now closed and the indicator lights were green, meaning there was someone inside. Someone, not something, because Hojo kept his human specimens close. Sephiroth wondered if it was the Ancient Hojo kept gabbling about as he walked to the cell, filled with morbid curiosity.

There was no window in the door; Hojo had learned that even the thickest bulletproof glass was useless against a boy who could break it with a well-placed fist, and solid steel now filled the gap. _"Nice to know I've made an impression," _Sephiroth thought dryly. By the door, there was a stick-on shelf much like the ones used in hospitals to hold patient records and messages, and its purpose in the lab was much the same. Sephiroth pulled the slim manila folder from the shelf and idly flipped through it. He had never seen his own records—once he had asked to and Hojo had practically exploded, ranting about 'psychological contamination' and such crap. That had been some ten years ago, right before Sephiroth had gone into the military, and he hadn't asked to see them since. Still, Sephiroth was curious about the person who was now being shut in his former jail and he scanned each page, noting that the person was regularly being injected with a Mako mixture similar to his, and that "Awe" seemed to be improving according to some vague standards. Turning a page, Sephiroth grimaced when he saw a red-barred sheet that read "Biannual Exam"—he shared Awe's pain. He flipped it over to see the photograph that he knew would be stapled to the back; Hojo had a mania for visual records.

Awe was nude, and Sephiroth blinked in surprise as he noted that Awe was a prepubescent Wutaiese girl. Her head was shaved, giving her the appearance of a cancer patient, but it didn't take away from her fine-featured face, which for some reason looked vaguely familiar. Her eyes, in particular, were the color of olives and threaded with lines of brighter green that gave them a gemlike appearance. Sephiroth studied Awe's face, wondering what he saw familiar in it, when he suddenly noticed the pupils of her eyes. They were vertically slit, like his.

Sephiroth yelled and threw the papers down, his body temperature plummeting as the bottom dropped out of his stomach. The strangely familiar features, the green threads in the eyes, and even the irony of Awe using his old cell—_"Hojo always told me I was sterile," _he thought numbly as an overwhelming wave of nausea crashed into him like a fist in the stomach. Sephiroth dropped to his knees, the triad of dizziness, illness, and Mako-induced pain too much for him to deal with. Clapping his hands over his mouth, he stuffed down the bile rising in his throat and shut his eyes, taking deep, heavy breaths until he could hear something other than the frenetic pounding of blood in his ears. Sephiroth opened his eyes once he was breathing evenly.

The papers lay all over the floor, innocuous white sheets that held the secret to Awe's life. He lunged for them, snatching up each sheet to devour its contents. Most of it was scientific psychobabble he had neither the training nor patience to understand, but he still gleaned a few important facts. Awe, as she had been codenamed, was eleven years old and of predominantly Wutaiese descent; that ruled out the idea of Awe being a test tube baby, Sephiroth decided. There were more Midgarian and Junonese women who would be fitter to bear his child due to differences in upbringing and genetic makeup; they were generally hardier than their Wutaiese sisters, who committed suicide if they even _thought_ their honor was impugned. Sephiroth vividly recalled walking into a POW barrack and finding a ring of dead women on the floor with sashes around their necks; the circular arrangement of the bodies and shared time of death made it obvious that they had committed suicide en masse, and all for the dishonor of being taken captive by the enemy.

But Awe. Awe. Damn it, what was her name? Sephiroth scoured the papers for his daughter's name. Awe was no name for a child; it was too big, too expansive. It showed that Hojo had terrible plans for the named one. Sephiroth was a walking example of that. Even to this day, he did not know what his birth name was, and maybe that was why he preferred to be called "the General"—the moniker 'Sephiroth' was the last remnant of a time he wished dearly to forget. Her name—what was her name? At last Sephiroth found a faded sheet of paper that had the information he wanted.

4 Jan, 0008-000

Subject Shusaku no Toriko is admitted.

0008-000; four years ago. The papers began to shake in Sephiroth's hands as he bit down a poisonous, red-hot flare of rage. Four years his flesh and blood had been shut in this building, and he had known nothing of it. Feeble, reasonable explanations ignited in a burning tide, and Sephiroth nearly screamed in fury. But something else caught his eye.

4 Jan, 0008-000

Shusaku no Toriko hence renamed Awe. Project Second Advent commences.

Sephiroth frowned, an ugly thread of suspicion creeping through him. Despite Hojo's best efforts to keep him in the dark about the experiments conducted on him, Sephiroth knew he was the star of Project Advent, an experiment whose goals were so heavily locked down that Sephiroth, who had computer clearance second only to President Shin-Ra, couldn't find out about it. It was too risky to steal President Shin-Ra's access cards, and Sephiroth doubted the paper files of Project Advent were even in Midgar; he had given up solving the mystery of his origins a long time ago. Now, though, the curiosity rekindled, as well as a nauseating possibility. Hojo made it no secret that he would love to have more little Sephiroths to play with, and his ideas of "breeding" were occasionally very...strange. Sephiroth stuffed his knuckle in his mouth to keep his gorge down, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

_"Not happening," _he thought grimly, opening his eyes. _"He will not breed us. He will not experiment on her. I will get Toriko out of this cell..."_

Sephiroth rose to his feet, scattered papers littering the floor, and reached for the keypad that was set into the side of the wall. Hojo was a creature of habit, and Sephiroth bet that he hadn't changed his access codes in twenty years, much less one that Sephiroth had "never" discovered. He grimaced when the usual 8462368 beeped a red light of failure.

"Damn," he swore softly, knowing one more wrong entry would summon guards and an angry Hojo. Briefly Sephiroth considered breaking the door down, but the burn of Mako in his veins told him that he would regret it if he did. Sephiroth chewed the inside of his cheek and tried to figure out the most logical course of action. He of course could not break out Toriko himself: such a deliberate act of sabotage would attract the attention of President Shin-Ra, and most likely enrage him to the point of sending Sephiroth back to Hojo. At the very least, Sephiroth's standing with him would be severely damaged.

_"What I need is a team like the Turks to come in, extract her, and put her somewhere safe... Somewhere Hojo will never find her. But it can't be a Shinra-affiliated team..._

_"How about an anti-Shinra team?"_

AVALANCHE immediately popped to mind. A militant terrorist group that had sprung up in Midgar ever since the creation of Mako reactors, they had mostly confined their activities to attacking petty executives, sabotaging reactors, and decrying Shin-Ra. Though the Company dismissed AVALANCHE as a group of undisciplined rabble-rousers, Sephiroth recognized the gleam of brilliance in them: after all, they had been plaguing Shin-Ra for the better part of thirty years with gradually increasing success. Sephiroth smiled to himself. Devoted warriors like the members of AVALANCHE were so easy to manipulate.

_"Wait a while, Toriko." _Sephiroth thought, touching the metal door with a hand that trembled from Mako burn and excitement. _"Wait just a bit longer. You'll be out of there soon enough."_

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Author's note:

This chapter went through at least two major rewrites before I went with this, the original idea. The other ones, Sephiroth busted Toriko out himself, but it just didn't feel right; it seemed too obvious for him. So I went with this much twistier version.

The dates (4 Jan 0008-000) are something I came up with based on AC. Briefly we see the plate on the Meteor monument reading "Meteo Impact: Era 0008-012. Keep on Rockin' in Midgar!" so I dated back from that, deciding that an era lasts one thousand years. Hence, Toriko was born 0007-993, which would make her nineteen in the momentous future.

And just so you know, this generation of AVALANCHE is eight years removed from the one we know in the game. So no Barret, Biggs, Jessie, Wedge, or Tifa. Sorry.

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	3. Chapter 2

Put Your Lights On

9.24.05

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done. Or as done as it's going to get, anyway. Yep. :imagines a mailbox full of flames: Oh well.

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Chapter Two: August 6

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Tseng never showed it, but he always felt a stab of guilt in his stomach whenever Sephiroth called him. _"Oh god," _he always thought. _"He knows. He knows I kidnapped his daughter. He's going to stab me through the gut and kill me."_ But he always walked down to Sephiroth's office, his emotions shelved behind a perfect Wutaiese mask, and Sephiroth never said anything about a daughter or a kidnapping. It was always, "Tseng, I have something for you to do," and Tseng always said, "Yes, sir." It was no different today.

"Several months ago, several of member of AVALANCHE were captured in an ambush." Sephiroth said, steepling his fingers. He was leaning back in his chair, the picture of dangerous grace, his silvery hair delineating the lines of his body from the black leather seat. His green eyes, famed for their brilliance and feline pupils, pulsed softly with the same light as materia, and held the same dread promise of power. Tseng's stomach flip-flopped from a combination of fear and awe.

"Yes, sir." Tseng replied. He tried to match Sephiroth's casual impeccability, but felt gauche even trying. "They're still in the Sector Four prison, and have repeatedly refused to talk."

Sephiroth tapped his fingers together, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Doesn't it strike you as odd that they haven't yet come for their comrades?"

"It does," Tseng admitted. "But terrorist groups usually follow the will of a cult leader, and if he says they aren't to be rescued, the group will obey."

Sephiroth nodded once, a gesture that Tseng had seen four years before in a much younger person. "Do you know what happens on August 31st?"

Tseng blinked. God, he hated being taken off-guard like this. The calm, matter-of-fact way Sephiroth asked these questions made it seem as though Tseng were expected to know the answers and if he didn't, would be thought stupid or at the very least, unprepared. Tseng cudgeled his brains, trying to think of how AVALANCHE and August 31st might be connected.

"It's the date that AVALANCHE'S first founder died," Sephiroth said, and Tseng kicked himself for not thinking fast enough. "Being the zealous spiritualist freaks they are, they will attack the Sector Four prison on that day if any." Tseng marveled at Sephiroth's lightning-quick thought process. "Also, it's the rotation of the Midgar armed forces; guards become patrollers, patrollers come to the Building, and the soldiers in the building spread themselves over the city."

"A day of weakened security," Tseng murmured in understanding.

Sephiroth nodded again, his expression darkening. "AVALANCHE has proven very resourceful in the past. I'd hate to be made a monkey of if by chance they managed to spirit their comrades out of prison while we were changing the guard."

Tseng could understand that. "What would you like to do, sir?"

"We're going to execute them," Sephiroth said. "It would bring them out of the woodwork and we could destroy them all in one fell swoop."

Tseng blinked. "E...Execute, sir?"

Sephiroth nodded. "Something suitably dramatic. Firing squad, perhaps..." But even as he spoke of guns, Tseng saw his eyes wander over to the left-hand wall, where the seven-foot blade named Masamune gleamed with deadly promise. Tseng felt his blood run cold.

"That might not go over so well with the general public," Tseng said delicately. Sephiroth glanced at him.

"And what would?" He asked, just a hint of annoyance in his voice. Tseng could feel the Masamune sliding effortlessly through his stomach. "Are you suggesting we bring back the gallows?"

"We could move them..." Tseng said, trying his best to keep the tremble out of his voice. "Somewhere different... More secure."

Sephiroth's eyes flicked subtly, a movement accomplished by the light in his Mako eyes. "Interesting..." Sephiroth murmured. "With the right misinformation, we could capture the would-be rescuers and pit them against each other."

Tseng nodded, relief washing over him.

"Good idea, Tseng," Sephiroth said, looking at him through his lashes; again Tseng was reminded of a certain young girl, and he suppressed a shiver of fear. "As it happens, there are cells on the sixty-seventh floor that are very well guarded by virtue of being close to Hojo's labs; we'll move the captives there."

Tseng nodded. "I'll get on it at once, sir."

Sephiroth's lips tipped upwards in what would have been called a smile in other people; on him, it was a veiled threat. Do this right, or I will be...displeased. "Good. And we need someone on misinformation... Someone to get them to run to the prison, where they can be easily captured."

"I know just the man, sir," Tseng said. "A new recruit fresh from the slums—"

"Reno," Sephiroth murmured, and when Tseng nodded he said, "Yes... He does have that look about him. Are you sure he's up to it?"

"Yes, sir." Tseng said, choosing to omit the phrase 'when he's sober'.

Sephiroth tapped his fingers together, his eyes flicking up to meet Tseng's. "This is important, Tseng." He said. "I will not be made a laughingstock."

"Yes, sir." Tseng said, nodding again.

"Once the captives have been transferred, I want the seventh division of the Outer Troop to guard them," Sephiroth replied, and Tseng could not quite hide his surprise. A division was a self-sustaining unit of twenty...

"SOLDIERS, sir?"

Sephiroth's eyes hardened. "Consider it insurance."

"_For dead AVALANCHE members," _Tseng thought. "Hojo's not going to like that, sir."

"Too bad for Hojo," Sephiroth said, a vicious little grin touching his face. His eyes going distant, he said in a low voice, "My authority supersedes his in this, and I _will_ have SOLDIERS on that floor."

Tseng got the impression that Sephiroth was taking this just a little too seriously. After all, there wasn't even a hint of AVALANCHE planning a move, let alone a rescue of six of its members from a highly defended facility. Looking at Sephiroth, though, Tseng suddenly realized that he was bored. It wasn't normal bored; when normal people got bored, they went lax, became sloppy, started slacking off in their jobs. Not so with Sephiroth. He went the other way, becoming tighter and tighter for lack of any _real_ work (read: fighting) to do and seizing on every little opportunity flex his military muscles. In the past few months, he had been becoming steadily tenser by the day and Tseng had come to his office a few times, answering a summons, only to find Sephiroth stalking around his office, cracking his knuckles with a panther's barely restrained impatience.

It suddenly came to Tseng that he actually felt sorry for Sephiroth. Sephiroth had never been trained for anything other than fighting and for him, peacetime was a long, slow torture session. Lesser soldiers than he had gone insane trying to find meaning in a world that changed on them; at least they had had something to come back to. Sephiroth had been on the battlefield from fourteen to twenty-five and as far as Tseng knew, he had no family (except a daughter, but he didn't know that) and no lovers or friends to help him ease into a quieter life, someone to share his frustrations with. Tseng wasn't about to offer, though; it wasn't healthy for one to be afraid of one's friends. Staying around Sephiroth longer than he needed to would give him an ulcer.

Tseng politely dipped his head in a bow. "Yes, sir," he said, and Sephiroth blinked, startling a little. It was as though he had forgotten Tseng was there.

"Go to it," he said briskly, covering his lapse. "Dismissed."

Tseng turned and left the office. What Sephiroth had just told him to do was not terribly difficult, but in a way it was more important than anything he had been assigned so far. As Tseng walked down the hall, he rather thought that if this mission did not go off without a hitch, Sephiroth would probably lose his mind.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's Note:

I enjoyed writing this chapter. If you didn't read the previous chapter and find what was really on Sephiroth's mind, it would look like what Tseng's thinking; Sephiroth's got the evening crazies. The next chapter will be hard, though... And something else. This story takes place eight years before FFVII, so this seems to indicate that the AVALANCHE being used here is the Before Crisis crew—but I don't know anything about the Before Crisis crew! Either I could make up a new branch of AVALANCHE (because it seems like they'd be well-connected, don't you think?) or just try to write around it... I'm inclined in favor of the latter because it seems like less work and more room to be creative. But we'll see.

/\/\/\/\/\


	4. Chapter 3

Put Your Lights On

9.25.05

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done. Or as done as it's going to get, anyway. Yep. :imagines a mailbox full of flames: Oh well.

Chapter Three: August 9

Reno slouched. It was the product of an orphan's life. No one up until Tseng had ever told him to stand up straight, and even then he still hung his head a little, giving him a slightly skulking appearance. But skulking was perfect for the current job, and so Reno skulked through the Sector Two slums, half-walking and half-creeping in the cautious slum-dweller's stride, his eyes warily evaluating every scrap metal heap that could hide a murderer or a psycho. New though he was to the Turks, Reno had gone through enough training to make any thug sorry he'd messed with him, but a scruffy information dealer wasn't supposed to fight, was he?

It was easy for Reno to pass as an information dealer. His father, God rest his soul, had been in the very business, so Reno knew exactly how a typical dealer was supposed to act and sound, as well as contact interested parties. A few dropped words in the right places had gotten AVALANCHE'S attention so quick that even Tseng, stoic Wutaiese bastard he was, had been surprised. That had been a few hours ago. Now Reno slid through the Sector Two slums, where AVALANCHE had told him to go. It wasn't specified where in the slums they would meet him, which was annoying: an ambush could have been done right then and there, but AVALANCHE was full of paranoid bastards and their paranoia was making Reno walk all over the goddamn place. "We'll find your man," they'd said. Since information dealers never went out of their secure bolt-holes, Reno was posing as a dealer's flunky, which was also easy for him to do. His father had used him a few times to carry this and that to various customers in the past. That hadn't been so long ago that he'd forgotten all the lessons of his eclectic childhood.

So when rough hands shot out of a nearby scrap metal pile and seized him by the arms, Reno automatically went limp and didn't make a sound. Vics who screamed got their throats slit, whereas the ones who kept quiet tended to live: after all, no one on the Plate cared what happened in the slums, so there was no need to kill a vic for fear of them going to the cops. Stars exploded in his eyes as the back of his head connected with an I-beam on the way into the scrap heap and Reno gasped in pain. He grunted as he was hurled rudely to the floor and heard a metallic clang and click; so this was an AVALANCHE bolt-hole, one of undoubtedly many scattered all over the slums. Reno sat up and swore, clutching the back of his head.

"Easy on the goods, will ya?" He whined in the self-pitying drawl of a slum bottom-feeder. "Unless you want 'em damaged..."

"Speak," a bodiless voice commanded in the dark.

Reno reached inside his pants pocket and pulled out a crumpled cigarette. He was wearing slum clothes today, a tatty shirt and pair of jeans that were gray with soot and wear. His hair was dyed brown and stuffed under a wooly skullcap, and his telltale tats had been covered with concealer; Rude, the most macho man Reno had ever seen, had expertly applied it to him. A few more subtle touches with makeup made Reno look younger, thinner, and unhealthier. It was almost like he was twelve and running goods again, complete with his disregard of authority.

"Gimme a light," he said, holding out his crumpled cigarette.

"No," the voice said. Reno opened his mouth to object, but the cold weight of a beer bottle thumped into his lap and he seized that, eagerly twisting the top off. Personally he was against drinking on the job—it made him fuzzy—but if a messenger didn't accept something, it would look suspicious. After all, dealers' flunkies weren't supposed to be smart enough to think there might be something in the 'present'. As he chugged the cold beer down, Reno was glad for the Star Pendant Tseng had forced him to wear. It was a sissy-looking thing, but he was glad for it; he didn't fancy dying.

"That's some beer!" Reno exclaimed, slurring just ever so slightly, and he felt the bodiless speaker relax just a bit; perhaps it hadn't been poison, but truth serum. Reno decided to play a talkative drunk. "Ahh, you AVALANCHES sure know how to treat a guy…"

"You had some information about our comrades..." the voice said evenly. Reno nodded enthusiastically in the dark, which was so absolute that he couldn't even made out where he had been pulled in front.

"Sure do," Reno said. "Guess what happens on August 31st?" He didn't give the voice time to answer. "Midgar changing of the guard. Lots of lowered security... Like on prisons and crap. Get what I mean?"

"Yes..." The voice murmured, interested. "I do."

Reno took another swig of his beer. "So whatsis to ya?" He asked, remembering to slur. Owlishly he held his hand out for his pay. There was a low chuckle and a baggie of stuff—powder, Reno realized; they were paying him in crack!—dropped into his hand. "Hey, what is this shit?" Reno demanded. "I ain't no junkie!"

"I don't think it would be wise for you to have to explain what you're doing with a large sum of cash," the voice said. "Take it to your boss. Have him sell it and you can get your cut of the profits."

"Fuck that shit," Reno said, understanding. He stuffed the drugs into the waistband of his pants; the pockets of his jeans were too small to hold the baggie.

Again the voice chuckled. "Indeed. Now...get out of here."

A cleverly concealed door in the side of the bolt-hole opened, and Reno barely had enough time to register its existence before he was booted—actually, physically booted—out of the bolt-hole. Luckily, his ignominious exist had been concealed by another pile of scrap metal and no one saw Reno land on his face in the dirt. _"I hope the makeup holds,"_ was all he thought before his nose banged painfully into the hard-packed dirt.

"OW!" He screamed, remembering he was supposed to be a bottom-feeder; but his scream went into the dirt, where it came out of a muffled roar of pain. Pulling himself to his feet, he muttered a string of obscenities under his breath before turning and walking down the street, taking occasional swigs from his beer bottle as he went. Just another drunk here. Not a Turk carrying what was probably five thousand gil in crack in his pants.

AVALANCHE would probably have him surreptitiously watched to make sure he wasn't double-crossing them. That was fine with Reno. He needed some time to sell the crack anyway, after which he would mosey on over to Don Corneo's—the underplate pimp was secretly in Shin-Ra's pocket as a reliable source of slum information, and for the purposes of this mission, he was Reno's boss. Reno would give him some of the money—keeping the lion's share of it for himself—Corneo would get pissed, and Reno would get "whacked" by being thrown into the sewers, where Corneo's pet monster would finish him off. Luckily, Corneo would also drop a tranquilizer gun that would take out the monster in seconds, and Reno would then hike to the Train Graveyard in Sector Seven, where Tseng would be waiting for him on the four o' clock train. Reno sighed and hiked up his pants, making sure the crack was still stuffed between his stomach and his pants. Selling these drugs was going to be the most enjoyable part of a long, stinking mission.

_"Maybe I'll go onto the Plate and see if I can get myself arrested," _Reno mused. _"That's be a quick way to get out of this..."_

Good plan. Better plan, actually. Reno grinned to himself and went to deal drugs.

Author's note:

Don't really have one... Though the mental image of Reno walking around with crack in his pants makes me snicker. As we can see, Reno is more than well equipped for any job he has to handle...


	5. Chapter 4

Put Your Lights On

9.25.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done. Or as done as it's going to get, anyway. Yep. :imagines a mailbox full of flames: Oh well.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Four: August 13

/\/\/\/\/\

"So?"

"It sounds good... Can we verify it?"

"He's working on it right now."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't rush me."

"It could be a trap."

"So what? Everything can be a trap. Besides, our people are more than capable of taking care of themselves. All they need are some weapons and they'll be able to bust out with us."

"Guys, we have a problem."

"What?"

"Well... The guy was right about one thing. It is the changing of the guard on August 31st. But our people aren't going to be in the prison."

"What?"

"I poked into Peace Enforcement's files to check out that guy's information and take a look at this. It's a requisition for an armored truck equipped with straps and cuffs for August 31st."

"So?"

"So our people are being moved."

"Where?"

"The Shin-Ra Building."

"..."

"Well, that's torn it. There's no way we're going to be able to get into the Shin-Ra Building."

"Hold on. Look where they're putting them."

"...It's the 67th floor. So?"

"So, these are Shin-Ra's labs. Look at this schematic. Do you see that?"

"That's a cargo elevator, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Straight from the bottom of the Building to the top."

"Well!"

"God, how I love a stupid enemy."

"But wait—isn't that going to be guarded?"

"Not from the weekly shipments that come in."

"Shipments?"

"Syringes, test tubes—you know, stuff like that. As well as some illegal materials..."

"Like what?"

"People, I bet."

"People!"

"Well, how do you think they made SOLDIERS? There have to be human test subjects somewhere."

"..."

"..."

"I could be wrong, of course."

"No, it seems exactly like them."

"In any case, check out that cargo elevator. You said they're being moved on the 31st, right?"

"Yeah."

"So the guard will be changing while they're being moved."

"They'll be left unguarded?"

"Not exactly... But they will be out of prison, and if we got the guards by surprise while they were being moved..."

"Oh, I see. And if we toss them weapons, it'll be a two-way ambush."

"Yup."

"Is there a chance we could go up with the shipments?"

"Maybe... But it'll be a trick to hide in the Building for a few days."

"A few days?"

"Yeah. It goes up on the 28th."

"Can we get the elevator to go up on August 31st?"

"Maybe. If we sabotaged the supply truck, it would cause a couple days' delay. But that would have to be timed really carefully."

"Make it work. This is the best chance we've got to get our people back."

"Too bad we didn't keep the crack. We could have used the money for bribes and guns."

"Don't worry about the crack. The beer I gave the messenger was poisoned. He'll drop dead in about three more days and we can take it from his body."

"Whoa."

"Why didn't you just kill him?"

"He could be a Shin-Ra spy. Let's let them think that we've taken the bait for their misinformation. On the 31st, they're going to be watching the Sector Four prison while we're actually heading to the Building..."

"Sweet. They'll never see us coming."

"Dumb Shin-Ra bastards."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

This is a pathetic attempt to completely circumvent my total lack of knowledge about Before Crisis's storyline. For clarification's sake, there are three people speaking—the leader, the tech wizard, and the second-in-command—they roughly take turns speaking, but somewhere in the middle I lost track of who was saying what. Maybe I'll remember later.

And don't worry about Reno. Star Pendant, remember?

/\/\/\/\/\


	6. Chapter 5

Put Your Lights On

9.25.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done. Or as done as it's going to get, anyway. Yep. :imagines a mailbox full of flames: Oh well.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Five: August 20

/\/\/\/\/\

President Shin-Ra looked at the two men before him. They were as different as could be, one of them a twisted maladroit and the other the epitome of grace. President Shinra mused on the contrast, which went even to their clothing, before saying anything.

"I don't mind wiping out AVALANCHE," he said, "but I agree with Hojo when he says that having SOLDIERS so close to the lab would probably cause millions of gil in damage."

Sephiroth's eyes flashed rebelliously. "Sir, none other than SOLDIERS could—"

"Didn't you hear the man?" Hojo said smugly, turning to look at him. "No SOLDIERS."

Sephiroth shot Hojo a barely hidden look of hatred. Both Hojo and President Shin-Ra ignored his outburst, though Hojo did nonchalantly turn away. President Shin-Ra looked at the bent scientist.

"Hojo, you have staff trained for combat situations, don't you?"

"What?" Hojo looked at him sharply. "Oh... Well, yes..."

"A compromise, then." President Shinra said, lacing his corpulent fingers atop his stomach. "Hojo's people will guard the AVALANCHE prisoners for the duration for their stay. Is this acceptable?"

Almost identical expressions of chagrin flicked across Hojo and Sephiroth's faces, but Sephiroth recovered first, saying in a neutral tone, "As you wish, sir."

"Of course, Mr. President," Hojo said, sounding distinctly unhappy.

"You may go, Sephiroth," President Shin-Ra said to his Peace Enforcement head. Sephiroth inclined his head in a polite bow before turning to go, his long silver hair lifting in the slight breeze. As always, President Shin-Ra was mesmerized by that steel-colored mane and unconsciously rubbed his fingers together, recalling the feel of it in his hands. What a beautiful catamite that man had been. And acquiescing to his request to go into the military had been quite profitable as well. If only there were more like him...

"How goes Second Advent?" President Shin-Ra asked Hojo.

Hojo sniffed. "Awe's progress is nothing to sneeze at, but she's deliberately being difficult. It takes a combination of physical and chemical coercion to make her do anything, and that affects her results." Hojo paused and added, "She hasn't begun producing eggs yet."

"Well, that's not surprising." President Shin-Ra replied. "She's only eleven, isn't she?"

"Yes, sir," Hojo said with a nod. "At the very least, we're looking at another year before any experiments can be tried."

President Shin-Ra nodded. "Alright." When Hojo's brows rose, he said, "You thought I'd be impatient? Hojo, even I know great science can't be rushed." As Hojo preened, he added, "Look at Sephiroth—he's still a work in progress, wouldn't you say?"

Hojo nodded. "His true success will not be measured until the second generation; we'll see how well his enhanced characteristics transcend generations."

"Isn't that visible in Awe?" President Shin-Ra asked, frowning.

"Awe is only one child," Hojo replied. "A general survey needs to be made over a broad range of subjects."

The same could be said for Sephiroth, but Dr. Gast had burned all his notes upon finding his conscience, so there was no way to recreate the fluke that had made their prodigal soldier. Besides, Sephiroth was the kind of man who went insane if he wasn't the best; having an equal would probably make him go berserk, which was the stuff nightmares were made of.

"Are you sure breeding them will be safe?" President Shin-Ra asked with a frown.

"Yes, if it's only for one generation," Hojo replied. "Deleterious mutations, of which they have few, will take repeated inbreeding to become truly detrimental."

President Shin-Ra nodded thoughtfully. "Just as long as you know what you're doing, Hojo. I would hate to lose the next generation of SOLDIERS to a mistake."

Hojo's face darkened in annoyance. "Of course, sir," he said, distinctly affronted. "No such mistakes will be made."

President Shin-Ra looked at Hojo. It was hard to believe that this sullen and sallow-faced worm was the father of the great Sephiroth. Certainly Sephiroth was intelligent, but that might have come from his mother... Either one, or perhaps both. Lucretia had been the premier female scientist of Shin-Ra until she'd been knocked up and killed in childbirth, and Jenova was, well... Jenova. The phenomenal success of those infused with her cells was very well documented.

"You're dismissed, Hojo," President Shin-Ra said, waving a fleshy hand at him. "Make the necessary arrangements for the 31st."

Hojo bowed stiffly. "Yes, sir," he said, and skulked out of the office. President Shin-Ra turned around and looked out of the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the back wall of his office. The large balcony beyond hid the glittering expanse of Midgar from view and seemed to point toward the green fields beyond. Well, not exactly green; President Shin-Ra wondered if there was something to AVALANCHE'S claims of Mako reactors killing the Planet as he noted the dry golden tone of the grass closest to Midgar.

"_Even if there is something to them, we can't get rid of the reactors now. They're a way of life, and it's not as though we have another resource to harness around here. Coal costs too much to export from Corel and Nibelheim, and wind generators won't give Midgar anywhere near the power it needs…_

"_Besides, Mako is quite a useful substance. We practically grow our own materia out of it. Once we begin selling and exporting it, Midgar will become the richest city in the world."_

Midgar was President Shin-Ra's baby. He hadn't founded it; it had grown up around the grubby weapons plant his father had founded nearly fifty years ago, a shantytown of technicians and mercenaries. But when the war had broken out fifteen years ago, there was a suddenly huge demand for weapons, particularly the automatic guns that the Shin-Ra Company specialized in. Almost overnight, revenue had begun flooding into the Company and people started coming to Midgar from all over the world, bringing new skills and culture to the formerly tiny little village, eventually turning it into the metropolis it was now. Better yet, Midgar was still growing; when President Shin-Ra had turned his weapon company into an electric power company, he had paved the way for new commerce to move in, and new businesses were always looking to expand. The future did look bright for Midgar... And of course President Shin-Ra. His company was an electric company now, but it could still turn back into a weapons company at any time—like when Hojo's next-generation SOLDIERS panned out.

_"The children of Sephiroth and Awe are the keys to my success. As long as nothing happens to them, I'll be fine..."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

It took me a while to figure out why President Shin-Ra would let an expensive investment like Sephiroth go to war when it would be cheaper and safer to keep him locked up for the rest of his life. The premise of a kinky yaoi doujinshi made me think and eventually arrive at the conclusion of Sephiroth being someone's bitch. Not now, though I suppose he could be, shall we say, 'pressed into service' as an adult; no, the episodes with President Shin-Ra happened when he was much younger, at least thirteen or fourteen.

I know. It makes my mind scream too.

/\/\/\/\/\


	7. Chapter 6

Put Your Lights On

9.25.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done. Or as done as it's going to get, anyway. Yep. :imagines a mailbox full of flames: Oh well.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Six: August 31

/\/\/\/\/\

Toriko couldn't sleep. The air in her cell seemed heavy, pressing down on her head to make her shaved scalp prickle every time she moved. She paced restlessly in the ten-by-fifteen room, unable to shake the feeling that something important was about to happen. Of course, she'd been feeling that way for several months, but tonight was the crucial moment.

She hoped it didn't have anything to do with Hojo. His face plagued her nightmares, where it alternately laughed and sneered at her when she tried to escape from the white-green tubes she always found herself shut in. And his hands were always so cold, so clammy, his fingertips like splinters. Oddly, if Hojo had touched her like that in lust, Toriko would not have been so frightened of him. Lust made people foolish, lust could be manipulated. At the very least, lust could wane over time and leave its object alone. Hojo's spirit of cold scientific examination, however, would never cease.

She really hoped Hojo was not involved in whatever momentous thing was happening tonight. Realistically, he wouldn't be; it was approximately midnight and even mad scientists had to go home to sleep. From beyond her steel door, though, Toriko could hear people moving around and they didn't have the shuffle of the usual janitors and techs. The step was heavier, more definite; the word 'military' popped into Toriko's mind for no reason. Toriko stopped pacing and keened her ears to the footsteps. It sounded like more than two—more than five, actually—people were walking around in the lab.

_"What could they be doing here so late at night?"_ Toriko wondered. For a moment, she thought about walking to the door and pressing her ear against it to hear them talking; Toriko's ears had just been getting sharper with age, and they were to the point where she could hear someone writing across the laboratory. But something made her hesitate. The same sense of anticipation that had been making her edgy for months seemed to tell her that being near the door would be a bad idea. Toriko sighed gustily and continued to pace.

Suddenly there was a yell and a sharp bang-bang-bang, and Toriko nearly leapt out of her skin—but her momentary fear was suddenly and inexplicably washed away by a surge of excitement. The anticipation that had been hanging over her head ignited, turning into a lightning cloud of adrenaline that nearly made Toriko laugh out loud. From the sounds of things, there was some fighting going on outside, and that was what she had been waiting for.

More yells. More bangs. There was the squishy sound of meat being hit hard, ripped apart, and someone died with a scream that made her blood thrill. Toriko's ears perked up as someone keyed in the code to her cell and without thinking, she ran for the door, a streak of white in the darkened lab. Briefly she caught a glimpse of a startled someone in glasses—not Hojo—as she hung a hard right to streak for the cargo elevator, where she knew things were carried into and out of the lab.

"Shit, Awe's escaping!" Someone yelled.

"Good for her!" Someone else shouted, and the first person died in a messy splooshing noise.

Miraculously, the elevator was right there, the doors seeming to invite her in. With a triumphant grin, Toriko sprinted in and slammed the 'down' arrow with the heel of her hand. The panel shattered; for a moment, Toriko stared at the sparking circuitry as she wondered if she'd broken the damn thing, but then the elevator lurched and began its slow, ponderous descent down. Toriko felt tears of joy prick her eyes.

But as the elevator rumbled down, Toriko suddenly realized that beyond escaping from the laboratory, she hadn't the faintest idea of what to do. At only eleven years of age, there was but one profession she could go into and Toriko knew her mother would die of shame (if she wasn't dead of disease already) if she found out her only daughter had gone into the "business". Besides, Toriko didn't want to catch some crotch-rotting disease. Prostitution was definitely out of the picture.

For a moment she considered tracking down her illustrious father. Hello, Sephiroth, I'm the product of a rape you committed eleven years ago. Could you give me some money? Toriko snorted. That possibility had 'death' written all over it. Yet death would be better than wandering penniless, hunted by Hojo all her days...

"_I've only my life to lose... And it hasn't been the best of lives, anyway. Why not try it?"_

And if her mother were dead already, maybe Toriko would see her in the afterlife.

Toriko looked up as alarms began to blare and froze when the elevator chugged to a stop. Panicking, she ran to the shattered elevator panel and tried to figure out where to press for 'down'.

"Move," she whispered. Hope and fear fluttered in her chest like a dying bird. "Please."

The elevator did not move. Toriko swallowed a hysterical scream and looked around for an escape. The elevator was nothing more than a railed platform that clanked its way up and down the shaft via huge cogs set in its corners. Walking to the side of the platform, she peeked over the edge and flinched when she saw nothing but black infinity below her. Jumping would be suicide.

Toriko looked at the sturdy cogs that hauled the elevator up and down, her eyes going from their large teeth to the corresponding crenelated rail set in the wall. Each tooth fit in a groove five inches wide, more than enough for a slender eleven-year-old hand or foot to fit in. Toriko stepped over the rail and carefully put her bare foot in the nearest groove. Her toes slipped, and Toriko realized that the rail was greased. Climbing down would be extremely dangerous.

"_I will not stay here and be caught!"_

An overwhelming sense of dread came over her as she firmly put her other foot a bit further down the rail, still hanging onto the edge of the elevator. All the muscles in her body tensed to rock-hardness as she slowly turned, reaching for the greased teeth of the cog rail. Gripping one large block, Toriko squeezed until she thought she heard the metal buckling; or maybe it was her hand creaking in protest. Whatever it was, her grip felt secure and Toriko slowly unwrapped her hand from the elevator's rail.

She tried not to look down as she turned to grasp another tooth, but it was impossible not to; darkness yawned before her like the gullet of a hungry monster, and the teeth Toriko held suddenly seemed slick with saliva. Suddenly her foot slipped and Toriko screamed as she suddenly found herself dangling over empty space, the thin sound echoing shrilly in the long tunnel.

"_Another way! Another way!" _She gibbered mentally, grabbing the elevator's rail and yanking herself back onto the elevator. Toriko scrambled to the center of the platform, sobbing with fear. A few minutes passed before she managed to get the pounding of her heart under control.

"_No climbing,"_ Toriko thought, vigorously scrubbing the black oil off her hands and feet. _"There has to be another way out."_ Toriko looked around and froze when she saw an innocuous service ladder sticking out on the wall where the doors would be. She hadn't seen it because she'd automatically looked to the left and right for escape, not behind.

"_I'm stupid."_ Cursing herself, Toriko walked to the ladder and wrapped her hands around the rungs. It was thankfully grease-free. Heartened by her discovery, Toriko began to climb down.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Part one of Toriko's escape is done. Watch for part two!

Riddle: who is the startled person in glasses that Toriko runs by?

/\/\/\/\/\


	8. Chapter 7

Put Your Lights On

9.25.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done. Or as done as it's going to get, anyway. Yep. :imagines a mailbox full of flames: Oh well.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Seven: August 31

/\/\/\/\/\

Sephiroth tied off the surgical tubing with his teeth and made a fist. The veins in his elbow lifted, royal blue against skin that had never seen the light of day, and Sephiroth picked up the syringe he had prepared beforehand. With the ease borne of long practice, he injected the tranquilizer into his vein and lay back on the bed, closing his eyes. It would be a few minutes before the trank did its work and he used those minutes to prepare for what he was about to do. Breathe in, breathe out. Draw in weightlessness, breathe out solidity. His breaths grew slower as the beat of blood faded in his ears, and Sephiroth felt himself rising, floating inexplicably out of his body. Opening his eyes, he saw the blank ceiling.

"_Excellent," _he thought with a smile.

Out-of-body experiences were nothing new for Sephiroth. When he had been young, they had been the best and only way to hide from the things had happened to him. Only during the war, though, had Sephiroth discovered that he couldn't just go out of his body; he could also go into other people's minds. It was hard to directly control a person, but influence—ah, that was easy, and a careful touch often brought about quite spectacular results. Oddly, this tampering was easier with SOLDIERS: Sephiroth supposed it was because of the Mako mixture they received to change themselves. Like him, they also had some mental powers, but they seemed to act strictly as relay stations: like an electron down a copper wire, Sephiroth could leap from SOLDIER to SOLDIER to reach someone at the opposite end of the continent—of the world, even, if there were enough SOLDIERS close enough to pass the message along.

Of course, the system was not perfect. Sephiroth's range was only about a mile in radius, gaining another mile if he used a SOLDIER as a springboard, and he could not connect to more than one mind at once. People's minds were confusing; their thought processes were akin to a hundred chocobos hopped up on caffeine stampeding from their natural predator. Brute force made them scatter and gentle persuasion was useless. Barriers had to be set in the right place and height, or the chocobos would just run right through them. Plus, they needed constant attention since they were likely to swerve at any given moment. Herding one such group was bad enough. Sephiroth had tried to herd two groups once and had woken up with a splitting headache. He had neither the mental finesse nor strength to manage two groups at once.

Still, it wasn't as though he were completely inept. Sephiroth extended his mental senses, a strange sense that was like both looking and feeling. Before him, the city of Midgar lay like a great dark field of cups, an undulating sea of burrows. Each cup was a mind, with some more receptive people being bowls or vases. Sephiroth looked in the direction of the Shin-Ra building and found a stack of cuplike shapes floating before him, moving sluggishly in the late hour. He willed himself toward the sixty-seventh layer and 'flew' toward the Shin-Ra Building, where he slid into one mind like a mancala bead and let his host's thoughts wash over him.

_Goddamn Hojo for making him pull a night shift. He fucking hated being in the lab at night. Most of the specimens started waking up around then, and their hisses, grunts, and eerie cries always sent a chill down his spine. And he was losing out on his sleep. That really pissed him off, especially considering the fact that SOLDIERS could have been used instead. Damn Hojo for being a paranoid bastard. SOLDIERS would be much more suited to dealing with AVALANCHE, if they ever came..._

"_Awe," _Sephiroth thought. The man's thoughts obligingly changed.

_What about Awe? Weird name, Awe. Saw her once. Nothing awe-ish about her. Or was that awesome? Just looked like a skinny little kid to him. Poor girl. She was shut up in her cell even now, probably without even a stuffed chocobo to play with..._

"_I never had a stuffed chocobo," _Sephiroth thought, bemused. The man's thoughts changed again at the words/impression 'stuffed chocobo'.

_He wondered what happened to Woolly, the doll he had carried everywhere when he'd been five. Woolly was much battered and much loved, and when his stuffing had started to fall out, he'd begged and whined at his mom until she'd stitched him back up. But she didn't have yellow thread, she only had blue, and from then on Woolly had become the tattooed chocobo. Woolly was cool. His brother Joe was also cool. Cool with a capital C. He—_

Sephiroth yanked himself from the man's mind before he could drown in a sea of idiotic childhood remembrances. Looking around, he found three minds riding up the cargo elevator. There was AVALANCHE, right on time. Sephiroth didn't bother to check their minds. He didn't like touching zealots and fanatics; their thought processes were so wild that they often ended up affecting him more than them, and not enough zealots were in a position where some careful tampering would profit Sephiroth anyway. Sephiroth looked around and blinked when he saw a glittering web of lines somewhere in the building. Curiously he touched the web. Suddenly he was aware of every mind within a five-mile radius even as the mind he touched now remained unaware of his presence. Sephiroth leapt back, reeling, and his awareness instantly shrank, leaving him feeling diminished. Who did this mind belong to?

"_Toriko, of course. It would only make sense that she would have the same power I have."_

He eased cautiously into Toriko's mind, this time prepared for the drastic broadening of his range. To his surprise, her thoughts were extremely focused. Rather than a herd of stampeding chocobos, he got the impression of brain cells, with thoughts being passed like electric pulses from axon to dendrite, and onto the next cell.

"_Thank goodness. Influencing her during the fight will be that much easier."_

He settled himself in her mind and waited. As focused as her thoughts were, there was no wave of trivial inanity to wash over him; rather, it was like looking at the ocean. The dolphins and turtles that came to the surface were interesting, but they were nothing compared to the plethora of life beneath. Sephiroth tried to push at these deeper layers of consciousness and frowned when he encountered resistance.

"_Does she know I'm here? Or is this natural?"_

The surface of the ocean suddenly churned; through Toriko, Sephiroth sensed that the fighting had begun. Satisfaction swept over him, followed by a heady dose of excitement. It was always thrilling when an operation came to fruition. As the door slid open, Sephiroth pressed lightly against Toriko's mind and said a single word. _"Run."_

Toriko ran. Peripherally she noticed the fighting as she beelined for the cargo elevator, which she had evidently scoped out earlier. Thanks to AVALANCHE, the elevator was there and waiting, and if Sephiroth had had a beard, he would have pulled it in pleasure. Few things could go wrong now, and they were nothing he hadn't planned for.

The alarms, for example, and the elevator stopping; he knew those would happen. What he didn't expect was Toriko trying to climb down the side of the shaft via the crenelated rail that held the elevator in place. Sephiroth threw the bulk of his will against hers, trying to stop her as she cautiously stepped out onto the greased teeth, but Toriko's mind unconsciously hardened against his assault. Sephiroth snarled in frustration as he scrabbled uselessly against the thickening resistance of Toriko's mind and finally drew back to watch Toriko carefully put another foot on the rail. An overwhelming sense of dread came over him as she slowly moved one hand from the elevator's guardrail to one of the greased teeth, an expression of utmost concentration on her face.

"_Don't fall,"_ he mentally whispered, the closest to praying he had come in a long time. _"Please, please don't fall. Hojo will make use of your dead body, I know he will. I don't want to be bred with you. Don't fall and die."_

In retrospect, perhaps the repetition of the word 'fall' had been a bad idea. Toriko shrieked as one of her feet slipped and Sephiroth lunged, trying to catch her—which of course was impossible. He slid over her mind instead, her fear lashing around him, and came out cold and shaking. Rarely had he known fear so incredible, so absolute. Gathering his courage, he turned to see what Toriko was doing. Thankfully, she had yanked herself back onto the elevator and was crying in fear, trembling like a leaf. Sephiroth found himself wanting to comfort her, which surprised and at first galled him.

"_I don't even know this girl! On the other hand, she is my daughter... I suppose a protective instinct is natural. I did orchestrate her breakout, after all._

"_But that was because I didn't want little ones like me running around. Or rather, being shut up for the rest of their lives. I wouldn't inflict Hojo on anybody."_

Toriko looked around and mentally slapped herself as she saw a service ladder. Sephiroth breathed a sigh of relief as she began to climb down the ladder, hand-under-hand like a boy rather than the one-rung-at-a-time favored by most girls. The ladder was infinitely safer, and in the event that the cargo elevator began moving, Toriko was small enough to press herself against the wall and let it slide by without a scratch. Now that they had a little downtime, so to speak, Sephiroth curiously probed Toriko's mind. _"Mother."_ He thought.

Instead of a babbling narrative stream, he got a bundle of impressions. Soft black hair, her mother's only pride in a body that was breaking apart on her. A foxlike eye, sharp and brown in a blue-black face, watching everything for a chance to profit. Too-soft skin that couldn't be touched; her mother would flinch, and Toriko didn't like her mother turning away from her more than she already did. Mother, one Shusaku no Seishi, claimed to love her and in a way, did. Still, it was sometimes so hard to love a child who was the culmination of everything bad in her life. She loved Toriko best at night, when she couldn't see Tori-chan's gray-green eyes, couldn't see the way she frightened people just by looking at her. When Toriko was just a little girl lying beside her on the sleeping pallet, the shallow rise and fall of her chest matching the beat of her mother's heart.

"_So she understood what her mother was thinking," _Sephiroth mused. _"She's been exercising her power longer than I have, then. But does she use it like I do?"_

Seishi tried to do her best by Toriko. She worked as a prostitute, and then as a prostitute's teacher/enforcer when her disease made her too unattractive to clients. She taught her young daughter how to speak Continental, how to read and write in both Wutaiese and Continental, and how to make attractive and subtle conversation: such was the education of an ex-geisha, which Seishi had been before becoming Lord Shusaku's third wife. Seishi also unintentionally taught Toriko of the cruelty of men, when each mention of 'Sephiroth' brought up her memories of what he and countless other men had done to her. Sephiroth winced at Toriko's very complete, although rather skewed, knowledge of sex. All that, and at only seven years old!

"_Father," _he thought, morbidly curious, and braced himself for the things to come. Like her view of sex, Toriko's view of him was rather strange. She knew of his reputation as a formidable warrior and a demon in battle, but she also saw him as weak. _"Weak!" _Sephiroth flared before the reason why came to him. He was weak because he had to exert dominance over others to get his way. If only he had seduced her mother instead of raping her, perhaps Toriko would have been cherished, like other children were. Perhaps her mother wouldn't have been so quick to give her away.

"_That's not my fault," _Sephiroth thought, but perhaps...

Her impressions of him included the Masamune covered with blood, and he started when he saw the image of her head reflected in it. For the disgrace of being the father of an illegitimate child, he would certainly kill her if he knew of her existence, which was why she had to stay away from him at all costs. But it wasn't as though she had anything to lose, and maybe if he saw her, he would realize what a bad thing he had done to her mother... To lots of women.

"_The strong dominate the weak," _Sephiroth thought. _"It's the way of nature, and there's nothing wrong about it."_

Man's nature was to take and woman's was to give. Their sexual organs spelled this in big letters. What was a casual tryst to a man was something deeply personal to a woman. She was literally letting someone inside her, when a person's privacy was the most respected thing in the world. Too bad women's gates didn't have doors or locks. The most any woman could do if she was raped was to take it in herself—pearl it, invaginate it, accept it—and go on wiser. Shying away from something that had been injected into her giving nature would break her in the long run. And men—they produced seed constantly. What care had they for where they planted them, or in what field? The more the better, obviously. The prolific farmer harvested the most profits.

All these old thoughts and feelings swirling in Toriko's young head made Sephiroth feel sick. Terrible things had happened to him when he had been young, but his faith in the human race hadn't been completely destroyed until he'd gone to war, when he saw the bloodthirstiness of man and just what people would do to survive. But those were extreme cases. For Toriko, she had had no faith in people ever since she had been born, and her cynicism, particularly about sex, could screw up every dimension of her life.

"_And one of us being screwed up is more than enough."_

Three hours later, Toriko finally reached the bottom of the ladder. As she massaged her aching hands and feet, Sephiroth wondered what to do with her. It would be unwise for her to live with him since she would still then be in Hojo's grasp, but who would be capable of raising such a precocious child? As he wondered, Toriko took off at a trot, slipping out of the loading dock and into the shadows of Midgar. He didn't realize she was heading for his apartment building until she stood at the foot of it and looked up.

The soft sea of her mind suddenly rippled, splashing against Sephiroth's presence. _"Are you there?" _ She seemed to ask.

_ "I'm here," _ he replied, too surprised to say anything else.

Toriko took a running leap and jumped onto the second story of the apartment complex, which like every other apartment sported a balcony. As quietly as a thief, Toriko slid the glass door open and walked through the apartment, her bare feet sinking into their plush carpet. Unlocking the door, Toriko stepped into the hall and looked for the stairs.

_ "Don't come here," _he thought in alarm. _ "You'll be caught." _

_ "They don't know where I am just yet," _ Toriko thought back at him. _ "Besides, there were things more dangerous than me in that lab. I imagine they're trying to herd those up first." _There was a pause before she added quietly, almost sadly, _ "I won't stay for long." _

Why did that small, helpless tone of hers strike guilt into his heart? Sephiroth shifted uncomfortably, not used to the emotion. It literally sucked; he could feel it vacuuming up his thought processes until only it remained.

_ "The night, at least," _ he thought at her, and felt a trill of gratitude from her. He tried not to be pleased, but it was hard not to be. Her emotion, after all, went straight into his mind and it was genuine.

After her recent mishap with the elevator, Toriko took the stairs up, and she climbed twenty flights in short time; apparently Hojo had included physical education during her stay, and she arrived at Sephiroth's door only a little winded. But she paused, and after a long moment, Sephiroth thought, _ "You can come in." _

_ "I'm afraid to," _ she thought back.

_ "Why?" _

She didn't say anything, but he caught a curl of embarrassment wafting out from her. She had her mother's word for it that he was one screwed up S.O.B., but then again, her mother had been biased. Still, Toriko had to wonder if the reality of Sephiroth was worse than the impressions of him she had been receiving.

_ "I won't kill you," _he said.

_ "I'm not worried about death," _she retorted. _ "I'm just afraid of any confirmation in the matter of me being more messed up than I already am." _

Sephiroth didn't know how to respond to that. Toriko stayed outside the door, shuffling her feet.

_ "You can't stay in the hall all night," _he thought finally. _ "And no one would come into my apartment without my signature—or President Shin-Ra's. Come in." _

Toriko touched the knob and gave it a light twist. _ "It's locked." _ She thought at him, even as a split second later the sound reached his ears.

_ "Wait," _ Sephiroth thought, and with a deep breath, let himself sink back into his body. It was a struggle coming back to this fleshly house after the omnipotence of being anywhere he pleased, but already his body was breaking down the tranquilizer in his system and Sephiroth got to his feet, swaying only a little. He pulled the surgical tubing off his arm with a snap and walked over to the door. Anxiety—was it his own, or coming from Toriko?—roiled in his stomach as he flicked the lock open and opened the door.

The actual physical reality of Toriko looked up at him. She was small; only about five feet, and every inch of her was covered in the black-gray soot that had fallen on her from the long ladder climb down, staining her white lab clothes gray. She was bald still, and her gray-green eyes seemed much too large in her solemn, pale face. She tried not to be scared, but he could feel it coming off in her waves and it was hard for him not to be affected by it.

"Come in," he said in Wutaiese, his voice softer than he intended, and Toriko hesitantly stepped in. Her bare feet were cut and dirty from running in the back alleys and streets of Midgar and her hands were blackened with soot. She clutched her arms, looking around with a mixture of fright and awe. Sephiroth closed the door quietly so as not to make her start.

"Would you like something to eat?" He asked, still in Wutaiese. He was trying to be polite, but apparently so was she; she spoke back in Continental.

"No thank you. I'm alright."

Then she blinked, realizing what they had done, and turned to look at him. For a long moment they stared at each other, completely at a loss as to what to do. Sephiroth was still getting used to the idea of her existence, which until now had been something he had only vaguely, though strongly, acknowledged. He thought Toriko was probably doing the same.

"May I take a bath?" She asked quietly.

"Of course," Sephiroth said, already moving. "I'll—"

"No, I can—"

"Sit down and rest," he ordered, looking at her. "You've had a very long night."

He caught her embarrassment as he went into the bathroom and turned on the water, sitting on the edge of the tub. He concentrated on the churning sound of it, the rumbling splash helping him concentrate on his similarly flickering thoughts. Predominantly he was filled with anxiety.

"_When Hojo discovers that Toriko is gone, he's going to go insane looking for her—and no doubt President Shin-Ra would give him all the resources he needs to do that. And even if they don't find Toriko, they know now that I can sire children. What's to stop them from creating another like her?_

"_Ideally, we need to disappear off the face of the earth."_

Sephiroth blinked. When had he started thinking of him and Toriko as 'we'? 'We' indicated solidarity and a connection. Sure he was her father, but other than that there wasn't anything holding them together. Words like "natural instinct" and "father affection" flitted across his mind, but neither phrase seemed to capture the right spirit of what he felt about Toriko.

Belatedly he noticed that the tub was almost full and hastily twisted the faucets closed. Rising to his feet, he walked out of the bathroom and into the hall, and found Toriko sitting in the living room. On the floor, to be precise, with her feet folded underneath her.

"Why aren't you sitting in a chair?" He exclaimed.

"I didn't want to get one dirty," she replied meekly.

Sephiroth raked a hand through his hair, sighing. He had never been this retiring, though a part of him was glad there wouldn't be elevator soot to wash away. "Don't worry about things like that," he said, and gestured over his shoulder. "The bath is ready."

"Thank you," she said, getting to her feet in an oddly graceful manner. Sephiroth wondered if Seishi had taught her how to get up like that.

"You're welcome," Sephiroth said, and Toriko padded by him on silent feet. He heard the door close, and he went to the kitchen to make something to eat. Tranquilizers made him ravenous, and no doubt Toriko wanted something too. He opened the refrigerator and frowned; it was time to go shopping. After eating bland army rations for nearly ten years of his life, Sephiroth had developed an appreciation for good food; that, and being a bachelor, he spent enormous amounts of time cooking, trying out recipes he picked up from the 'Net and restaurants. With the same practical efficiency that marked everything he did in his life, Sephiroth took inventory of the contents of his refrigerator and began to pull things from it.

His PHS, sitting in its charger on the kitchen counter, vibrated violently and skittered its way toward him. Sephiroth closed the refrigerator and turned around to pick it up. "Sephiroth," he said curtly.

"Get your ass down here!" Hojo shrieked. Sephiroth jerked the phone away from his ear, wincing at the sheer volume that Hojo had packed behind his scream. But a second later, his wince turned into a grin, and he had to fight down the gale of laughter that threatened to explode out of him.

"Something wrong, Hojo?" Sephiroth asked, turning his voice into the mockingly caring tone that had always driven Hojo crazy.

"You know damn well what's wrong!" Hojo shrilled. "You knew this was going to happen!"

For a moment, Sephiroth felt a flash of panic as he wondered if Hojo had known of his oblique orchestration of the affair—but then he brushed the possibility aside. Hojo's strength lay in reasonable scientific deduction, not intuition, and no one could possibly connect a terrorist attack with him.

"Those AVALANCHE freaks opened every cell in the lab!" Hojo ranted.

"Every cell?" Sephiroth asked sharply, putting annoyance in his voice. "So they've escaped?"

"My _specimens_ have escaped!" Hojo screamed. "At this moment, there are monsters roaming all over the Building!"

"Did the prisoners from AVALANCHE escape?" Sephiroth pressed.

"Yes, in the confusion."

Sephiroth pretended to be annoyed. "I was led to believe your men were quite capable, Hojo."

"They are!" Hojo flared. "Or shall we say, they were. Those goddamn terrorists cut them to shreds!"

"Too bad there were no SOLDIERS there..." Sephiroth said viciously.

"You've made your point," Hojo grated. "Now get down here and recapture my specimens."

"Is that an order from President Shin-Ra?" Sephiroth asked, enjoying Hojo's discomfort to the hilt.

Hojo swore explosively and Sephiroth listened, always on the lookout for new obscenities. When Hojo finally stopped screaming to take a breath, Sephiroth quite calmly said, "In the interest of interdepartmental cooperation, I'll bring my SOLDIERS in and we'll take care of the monsters. However, if you want the monsters alive, you'll need to supply us with the necessary equipment. I trust you have some on hand?"

"Of course!"

"Excellent. We'll be there in an hour."

Hojo signed off with a snap and Sephiroth quietly shut the PHS, putting the phone down on the counter. His mirth, so far repressed, began to break through in a series of low snickers that made his body shake. Vainly he bit his lip to contain them, but it wasn't long until a great golden roar of laughter exploded out of him, and Sephiroth threw his arms above him in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.

"Take THAT, you dumb bastard!" He shouted and flicked off the PHS as if that would somehow turn it into Hojo's face. "That's what you get for fucking with me!"

"What's happening?" Toriko called from the bathroom.

"Nothing!" Sephiroth shouted back, and laughed some more. Taking a deep breath, he collected himself before opening the PHS again and dialing the number for the Midgar SOLDIER garrison.

"Midgar SOLDIER Garrison, Private Herricks speaking," a tired, bored voice slurred. "How may I direct your call?"

"This is the General," Sephiroth said in a cold, annoyed tone, and felt the other man jerk into wakefulness. "Wake the Seventh."

"Y-yes, sir." Herricks gabbled.

"Tell them to meet me in the lobby of the Shin-Ra Building at 0430. They are to be armed and equipped with materia."

"Yes, sir."

Sephiroth snapped the PHS shut and took the opportunity to laugh again. Stepping out from behind the kitchen counter, he half-walked, half-ran to his room and gleefully stripped off his shirt and pants. His black leather coat, which had hung unworn for four years, came off its hanger and his white armor came out of its case. Well-worn boots, elbow-length gloves, and the metal bands to snap them down; Sephiroth dressed in his old battling clothes with alacrity, barely managing to keep himself from cackling with glee. The Masamune, which he carried daily to and from the office, was snatched off its place of honor on the wall, its blade ringing a metallic note of joy as Sephiroth sheathed it on his back. Tonight would be a reckoning. Sephiroth had little intention of bringing Hojo's specimens back alive. The poor things were better off dead, and the thought of Hojo turning purple of apoplexy made Sephiroth laugh again. Still, he couldn't kill them all—even President Shin-Ra would read that as viciousness, and Sephiroth was supposed to be the perfect soldier.

Sephiroth walked out of his room grinning just as Toriko came out of the bathroom. She had made some attempt to wash her clothes and dry them (probably using the hairdryer; Sephiroth recalled hearing the whine of it while he'd been dressing) and was, on the whole, looking more presentable. To his shock, Toriko blanched and crumpled to the ground insensate; he dipped to one knee and barely managed to catch her in time. As his gloved hands touched her arms, he winced as a sudden image burst before his eyes.

_Bloody face, bloody sword, standing in a sea of screams and viscera. Behold the Great Demon, Sephiroth!_

Along with the street-preacher line (where had Toriko picked up that crap?) came an irrational surge of fear that was almost debilitating. Sephiroth shook his head and looked at Toriko in mixed annoyance and sympathy.

"_I'm surprised she didn't faint on sight," _he thought wryly. Lifting Toriko—she was lighter than she looked—he carried her into his room and put her on the bed, pulling the blankets out and wrapping them around her. Good god, she was tiny. With one hand, he could pick her up by the head and throw her. Instead, he used that hand to tuck the blanket around her thin frame, feeling her pulse flutter through the fabric. After a night of flights and fright, she needed to rest, and it wasn't like he would be needing the bed, anyway. Clearing out the entire Shin-Ra Building would take at least several hours. Making sure Toriko was properly tucked in, he fluffed her pillow a little before leaving the room. It was time to make Hojo pay for all he had done.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Sephiroth comes across as quite daddish in this chapter, but he's actually not that aware of it. He has another things on his mind, like messing with Hojo's head.

Yes, Sephiroth is psychic before Jenova gets to him. He's been infused with her cells ever since his infancy, so it's a reasonable leap to me. And Toriko would have that ability too since Sephiroth being tweaked in the womb would probably have Jenova's DNA in him, and hence so would Toriko.

One more thing. When Sephiroth sits in Toriko's mind, her thoughts are not in italics because he's not actually hearing her thoughts; he receives the emotions that motivate her thoughts, which is quite a bit deeper than mind-reading or telepathy because they're not exchanging words, they're exchanging impressions/intuition, which can give multiple messages at once depending on the circumstances. That's going to be such a bitch to write later...

So, Toriko is in the house. How is she going to stay there? One wonders... Really. It makes more sense to have her on the run.

/\/\/\/\/\


	9. Chapter 8

Put Your Lights On

9.27.05

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done. Or as done as it's going to get, anyway. Yep. :imagines a mailbox full of flames: Oh well.

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Chapter Eight

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Two eyes could not encompass all the glare Hojo had behind his glasses. Sephiroth and his SOLDIERS had brought the majority of his specimens back alive, but the bigger ones—the expensive ones—had "unfortunately" been terminated and one of them had just not been found. Angrily gesturing over his shoulder, Hojo summoned the horde of lab assistants he had yanked from their beds earlier and glared at Sephiroth as they moved forward to take the tranquilized specimens into custody. As black-clad SOLDIERS passed their burdens to white-coated scientists, the epitomes of their professions faced off. Sephiroth hid it well, but his glee at Hojo's face-plant was all too evident to the man who had raised him for fourteen years.

"Get that grin off your face!" Hojo snarled at Sephiroth's seemingly cool and innocent expression. The only reply he got was an arched brow, which reminded him all too much of a certain Turk. Luckily, the happy memory of that Turk moldering in a basement a continent away kept Hojo from completely losing his temper. "Are you sure this is all of them?"

"I cast a Sense throughout the entire building," Sephiroth replied—he was highly skilled when it came to unorthodox materia application—and said, "These are all of your precious specimens."

"Are you _sure?_" Hojo pressed.

Sephiroth's eyes flashed. "You know I don't leave anything half-finished," he said in a soft, deadly tone.

Hojo sniffed. "Not in your mind, anyway." As Sephiroth's eyes flashed again, he said, "There is one more specimen that is unaccounted for. A human female labeled Awe."

"Ah-weh?" Sephiroth repeated. Hojo noted his brief flicker of a frown, as though he were confused about something. This piqued his interest. Sephiroth was almost never confused, understanding everything around him with a near preternatural talent.

"Yes, spelled A-W-E, but she won't answer to that." Hojo pushed his glasses up his nose and added, "Prepubescent. Wutaiese. Bald. Find her."

"You don't order me," Sephiroth said, his eyes flashing a third time. His words were more than a rebuke; they were the latest addition in the series of threats that Sephiroth had directed at Hojo for nearly all his life. Hojo had learned to ignore them by now. "In all likelihood, she's escaped from the Building," Sephiroth said, his expression narrowing slightly. "If she's gone into the slums, you'll be hard-pressed to find her." A slight smile touched his face as he added, "As I recall, you haven't even found the Ancient yet, and you've been searching for her for seven years."

"Your degenerate Turks haven't found her in seven years!" Hojo flared, his temper getting the better of him.

"Searching for the Ancient is something they do in their spare time," Sephiroth reminded him, "of which they have little." Pausing, he added, "If you want them to locate Awe as well, you'll have to requisition them from President Shin-Ra, like always. You know how he hates to be left out of interdepartmental dealings."

Hojo growled at him, but knew he was right. "The necessary papers will be filed and stamped by this afternoon," he sniped, "so you might as well get them ready."

Sephiroth's smile was just a tad vicious. "Bear in mind that you'll have to wait if they're already on assignment."

"What assignment?" Hojo demanded, his eyes flashing.

Sephiroth examined the tips of his gloved fingers. "The recapture and annihilation of AVALANCHE, of course." Hojo could feel the blood rushing to his head, pounding in his ears as an indescribable, almost exquisite feeling of rage overcame him. Sephiroth blithely went on. "Which is likely to take...years."

"You have six Turks," Hojo grated out. "You will spare at least three of them."

"We'll see what the President says," Sephiroth said, dropping his hand back to his side. "He left for his villa in Costa del Sol two days ago and will probably be hard to get hold of..."

"I will call him," Hojo said angrily. "Awe is too important to let slide by."

"Oh?" Sephiroth's brows rose. "And why is that?"

Hojo glared. As though he would share such sensitive information around cotton-headed SOLDIERS and lowly technicians! Besides, he had the impression that Sephiroth would be none too thrilled with Awe's purpose—or origins.

"That is none of your concern." Hojo said stiffly.

"The Turks must be informed if this...Awe," Sephiroth said the name with distaste. "Is dangerous."

"Not at all," Hojo replied and he was telling the truth—almost. Awe wasn't physically violent, but some CAT scans had revealed spikes of unusual cerebral activity that Hojo had never seen before, spikes that usually corresponded with lab accidents—computer breakdowns, lab techs somehow managing to hurt themselves, and once quite a spectacular spontaneous combustion. Hojo was loath to conclude that Awe had psychokinetic powers, but since there had been no reasonable scientific explanations for the incidents and since similar phenomena had happened when Sephiroth was younger—well, Hojo supposed anything was possible.

_"I only wonder what Awe's post-natal Jenova cell injections will do to her in the long run... Just as what Sephiroth's Mako injections will do to him. I began giving him those when I noticed a change in his Jenova-infected DNA: it's not just undergoing mitosis, but also sexual reproduction. If not for the Mako, Sephiroth would have almost nothing but Jenova cells in him right now. Still, his DNA is substantially different than it was ten years ago. If the experiments with Awe are not done soon, it's entirely possible that he will change into a completely different creature—a new species of human unable to crossbreed._

_"Wouldn't _that_ put a nice crimp in my funding?"_

"Not at all," Hojo repeated. "But it is imperative that she be recaptured as soon as possible. Awe is unlikely to survive outside a controlled environment."

Sephiroth's lips quirked in a slight smile and Hojo recalled he had said the same thing about him when President Shin-Ra had ordered Sephiroth into the military. Hojo still maintained that. While Sephiroth had been enormously profitable for Shin-Ra publicly and financially, his psyche was not as stable as Hojo would have liked.

_"Violent, moody, prone to fits of childish stubbornness and paranoia; he's intelligent, but a psychological juvenile. And he has the most appalling lack of morals, or he wouldn't threaten me. I literally made him who he is now."_

"Your secretary will be sent the necessary details," Hojo said stiffly and whipped around, stomping back into the lab. He could feel Sephiroth mockingly saluting him, his viciously amused eyes burning into his back. As always, Hojo's temper flared.

_"Idiot!" _Hojo snarled, slamming the door behind him._ "He doesn't seem to understand that all of this—everything—I'm doing it all for him! For _his_ glory, for _his_ survival! Without me, he would be dead! He wouldn't even exist, in the sense of being the person he is now! He would be some forgotten child in a school out in the boondocks with his whore of a mother and his killer of a father."_

"Vincent," Hojo spat, cursing both the Turk and the son named after him. When Lucrecia had insisted on that name for the experimental subject, Hojo had nearly exploded. She had been eight months pregnant at the time and moping since Vincent had been "transferred back to Midgar" and replaced with a younger, more serious Turk who obeyed his orders to the letter. Hojo had hoped in all that time she would have forgotten about her noisome swain and paid some attention to the one who truly suited her interests, but Lucrecia's insistence on naming her son—her and Vincent's son—after his father had quite destroyed that impression. It had taken a lot of talking to persuade her and Gast to agree to the label "Sephiroth" and use that exclusively, in the interest of preserving the scientific nature of the project. Out of the three of them, Hojo was the only one who still knew Sephiroth's real name—and unlike Gast or Lucrecia would have done, he was never, never going to tell it to him.

_"As far as I'm concerned, Sephiroth is his real name. Vincent Valentine, the first and the second, is dead."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Hojo does care for Sephiroth in a weird and twisted sort of way. He wants to see Sephiroth do well and develop normally, the wishes of any parent—pseudo-parent in Hojo's case—and he's not doing it for recognition or glory.

Another riddle: Why does Hojo pronounce Toriko's label as Ah-weh? And why is her label Awe in the first place?

/\/\/\/\/\


	10. Chapter 9

Put Your Lights On

9.27.05

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done. Or as done as it's going to get, anyway. Yep. :imagines a mailbox full of flames: Oh well.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Nine

/\/\/\/\/\

Toriko often dreamed she had a normal family. Her father—Wutaiese, not some white-haired demon—would come home and sweep her up in his arms as she ran to him shrieking with joy. Her mother would follow more sedately, greeting him with a murmured, "Welcome home, darling," and a chaste kiss that would still make Toriko wrinkle her nose with disgust. Then they would eat dinner and Toriko would sit right between her parents, safe and happy in the warm mantle of love and protection they cast over her. Nothing would hurt her and she wouldn't ever regret having been born. She would have been happy.

But four years in Hojo's lab and seven as the disgrace of a former noblewoman made her nervous instead, so Toriko woke up instantly, without swimming through layers of sleepiness. She breathed and smelled something she knew innately was clean, despite having few experiences with such materials—sterile was not really the same thing as clean. And she was lying on something soft too. Opening her eyes, Toriko sat up and looked around.

There was no question as to where she was. The empty sword bracket above her head, as well as the bleak starkness of the room, made it abundantly clear that she was in her father's abode. His sheets and blanket were both white, and Toriko grimaced when she saw the dirty gray of her clothes against them. She slid out of bed and made it as best as she could, sticking the sheets and blanket as best she could under the mattress to make it look smooth and uniform. It was harder than she thought. Lifting the mattress was no problem, but every time she stuck the blankets and sheets underneath it, the covers would bunch and wrinkle. Toriko was trying to make the bed for the third time when she heard the jingle of keys behind her.

_"He's home," _she thought, dropping the blanket. The idea of facing him froze her stomach with fear. Hojo, horrible though he was, had always been predictable. Was Sephiroth the same way? Would he regret his decision to take her in? Indecision seized her as she agonized over whether to say hello or "go back" to sleep, and she heard the door close.

"I'm home," a familiar male voice called in Wutaiese.

"Welcome back!" Toriko called back, running out of the room. Briefly she remembered her mother's lessons and slowed at once, pacing her steps to be small and ladylike. Keeping her gaze fixed at a point about twenty feet in front of her—so she could see everything, but without looking anyone in the eye—Toriko shuffled into the living room and bowed deeply, her hands on her thighs. Her shaved scalp prickled as Sephiroth's eyes landed on her. Swallowing, Toriko said, "Welcome back... Father."

He scoffed under his breath at her blatant attempt to remind him of their kinship and she heard a soft click; glancing up, her blood chilled as she saw him unsheathe the Masamune. For a moment her heart froze; then it sank into her stomach and Toriko shut her eyes, gritting her teeth.

_"It's his prerogative to kill me,"_ she said to herself. _"It's his prerogative to correct a mistake."_

Toriko only hoped it would be quick.

"Ugh," he said, and Toriko heard something unbuckle, followed by the meaty thump of falling leather. Squeezing one eye open, she saw Sephiroth leaning against the counter, absently rubbing the ache out of his shoulder with one hand as he put the Masamune on the kitchen counter with another. Toriko was impressed at the sight of his unmarked torso; only a peerless swordsman could be without wounds.

"Stand up," he commanded. "You're going to give yourself a backache." Toriko straightened, though she kept her eyes fixed on the floor. "And look at me when I talk to you."

"Yes, Father," she said, reluctantly bringing her eyes to meet his. The unholy burning green of them made her flinch a little inside, mostly because she had that same unholiness in her gaze. There was no doubt about it; this was her father.

"Hojo has commanded me to look for you," Sephiroth said, and Toriko blinked. She would have been afraid, but something in his tone of voice seemed to say that he had no intention of following through. She tilted her head instead, looking curiously at him. "He'll never expect you to be here, in my house. It would be best to wait until the furor over your disappearance dies down."

He paused, looking at her expectantly, and Toriko blinked again. Did he think this was good news for her? Yes, he was her father and normally girls would be happy to live with their fathers, but he had no emotional attachment to her, neither she to him, and he reserved the right to kill her or throw her out of the place at any time. She had traded a life of hell for one of fearful uncertainty.

"Then what happens?" She asked.

Sephiroth looked at her, not saying anything for a long time. She sensed him running over a list of options in his head and discarding them at such a blinding pace that she received was a sort of mental blur; she could tell he was thinking rapidly, but not about what.

"I don't know." He said finally. "Would you like to go back to Wutai?"

Wutai. Toriko remembered Wutai. The gilded streets were paved for foreigners and ladies of noble blood dressed gaudy bright, like whores. Honor was strung on the walls like cheap paper, and everyone reeked of rice-made liquid oblivion. She remembered the smell of rotting flesh and her mother's heartbeat.

"No." Toriko said firmly.

Sephiroth's expression tightened imperceptibly in annoyance, but he didn't naysay her choice. "Would you like to go anywhere?"

Was there anyplace that would take her? "No," she said, but her voice was softer.

Sephiroth continued rubbing his shoulder. Apparently four years of inactivity made one a little stiff. "I'm going to cook breakfast," he said, and Toriko blinked in surprise. "Then I'm going to go grocery shopping. Can you stay out of trouble for a few hours?"

"Yes," Toriko said, knowing he didn't mean to sound insulting. Her staying out of trouble was essential to both of their survivals.

Sephiroth picked up his coat and his sword, and Toriko stepped out of his way as he walked down to his room. A few seconds later, he came out in a plain shirt that was gray with wear, like her clothes, and started cooking. Toriko slid into one of the tall stools that faced the kitchen counter, watching as Sephiroth efficiently cooked eggs, sausages, and some vegetables she didn't recognize in a large, flat pan. On impulse she stood up on the stool and reached for one of the cabinets mounted to the wall, pulling the door open to see round, flat plates inside. Taking out two of them, she set them on the counter just as Sephiroth finished cooking and he portioned the food on both plates. He handed her silverware and they began to eat in silence. As Toriko tried to eat in small, graceful bites, she wondered what was more amazing; that Sephiroth cooked, that the food tasted good, or that he was feeding her without being asked to.

He finished before she did and went back to his room, probably to change; he had an appearance to keep up, after all, since big bad heroes weren't supposed to wander through grocery stores in t-shirts and slacks. Toriko cleaned her plate and took his, hopping off the stool to carry them both to the sink. As she put the plates down, it suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea what to do next.

_ "Sponge." _Came the abrupt instruction. Luckily, he was not annoyed, just informing her brusquely. _ "Soap. Scrub. Dry them and put them away." _

_ "You sound tired." _She commented. It was easier to talk to him when she couldn't see him, when she could only hear his thoughts and emotions. He didn't seem to alien then, so frightening. _ "Maybe you should sleep instead of going out." _

Sephiroth came out of his room, wearing a whiter tee-shirt, khaki-colored pants, and a loose jacket that disguised the development of his arms and shoulders. With his white hair tied back and stuffed under a hat, he looked...weird.

"It's been four years since the war ended, but people still make a fuss if they see me in public," Sephiroth said, seeing Toriko's raised brows. "This makes it a little harder for them to identify me."

"But your eyes," she began, but Sephiroth blinked and Toriko suddenly noticed that instead of their brilliant green, his eyes were a dark, almost opaque shade of brown.

"Colored contact lenses," he explained. "They also take out some of the Mako glow."

"You do all this just to get food?" Toriko exclaimed.

"And other things," he said. Looking Toriko up and down, he said, "I might as well get you some clothes too."

"What?" Toriko stared at him and was vaguely aware of her cheeks beginning to burn.

"Don't burn anything," he warned her as he walked toward the door. "And don't break anything either." And then he was gone, just like that, and left Toriko gaping after him.

_ "I don't need clothes!" _She thought frantically at him.

The reply was instant. _ "You want to wear lab clothes for the rest of your days?" _

_ "Well, no, but..." _

_ "But what?" _

_ "Why are you being nice to me?" _

There was a pause that turned into a silence, and it took Toriko a few long moments to realize that he wasn't going to answer her. Sighing, Toriko took the squishy green object that had caught her attention at the word 'sponge' and began to wash the dishes. Cleaning was a mindless activity, one that allowed her to wonder about Sephiroth's increasingly odd behavior. She had always been led to believe that Sephiroth was a horrible person, but he hadn't made a threatening gesture yet, and she hadn't caught even a hint of hostile energy from him. She tried not to consider the possibility he was a good person.

Two plates did not take long to wash and Toriko wiped her hands on her pants. She had nothing to do now. Toriko considered taking a nap, but she was too awake to do that; she would just lie on the bed, or maybe the floor since she didn't have Sephiroth's leave to be on the bed, and roll around aimlessly, waiting for sleep to take her. Toriko looked down at the floor, vaguely searching it for reference, and noticed that it was dirty.

Toriko blinked. She stared at the floor for a bit longer, wondering if she had become so used to the sterility of her cell that even a little bit of dirt bothered her. She hoped that she just liked to be neat as she opened the cabinets under the sink and lifted out a bucket, cleaning solution, and a fold-up mop. But she had to be honest with herself. Toriko wasn't cleaning entirely out of boredom. A small part of her clung desperately to the idea of 'home', even if 'home' happened to be with a raping maniac, a man who could kill her at any time, and that part of Toriko urged her to be a good daughter. Maybe Sephiroth would keep her. Maybe she wouldn't be thrown away again.

Maybe he'd love her and feel it instead of just saying the words.

Toriko filled up the bucket and began to mop.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

It's very confusing for a child when her mother says, "I love you," but won't touch her; maybe even push her away. Children need lots of reassurance that they're loved. Maybe it's because they see themselves as the grown-ups' dolls, and like dolls, can be discarded as soon as a better model comes along. God knows some of my worst nightmares were like that, and why I still have every stuffed toy I've received since infancy.

/\/\/\/\/\


	11. Chapter 10

Put Your Lights On

9.28.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I couldn't resist any more… 716 hits, damn! Almost as many as my FFX epic, Deliver Me, and I've no doubt Put Your Lights On will outstrip it. Not review-wise, though—PYLO has 20 as opposed to DE's 142.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Ten

/\/\/\/\/\

Out of all the executives, Sephiroth had no servants. The public speculated about this, supposing it was a manifestation of the self-sufficiency he had learned in the war, and they were sort of right—Sephiroth did know and did prefer to do things himself. But he did his own laundry, cleaned his own house, and did his own shopping because he was extremely paranoid. Any situation that he personally wasn't looking over or being handled by trusted SOLDIERS could be turned against him. Even an egg could hide a deadly poison.

_"It wouldn't kill me, but it would land me in intensive care, and intensive car means Hojo's care..."_

The clerks knew him at the market as the weird man who had to inspect every single egg before buying a carton and the one who would open a milk jug to sniff its inside if he could get away with it. As a result, there was always at least one of the blue-aproned people surreptitiously watching him, but Sephiroth didn't mind their surveillance. He preferred to know where his enemies were. Better they watch him from between the gaps in their shelves than through CCTV, though he could duck out of the cameras if he so chose. Once he had, just for fun, and had heard a whisper somewhere far behind him.

"—think he's crazy—"

That day, he hadn't been sure whether to laugh or be annoyed. Today, he was glad for the misdiagnosis. Nobody bothered the crazy man while he was shopping. They skittered out of his way. Sephiroth had to swallow a smile every time a mother pulled her child closer when he passed, or when a young woman spotted him at the end of an aisle and moved quickly on. Sephiroth didn't understand why they were so leery of him—he didn't think he looked particularly dirty or disreputable—but it worked. And it was a little evil, but all it took was one brown-eyed glare to make people clear away from whatever he wanted. Like the Swedish fish. True to his crazy man persona, Sephiroth opened the bag and began eating them in the store, taking a particular delight in biting their jelly heads off before slurping the bodies down. They tickled. A few years ago, he would have died before indulging in such undignified behavior, but the joy of a disguise is that you weren't who you were supposed to be. Besides, he had so few joys now that he wasn't allowed to engage in reckless slaughter.

TV screens were set up near the front of the store to give customers something to watch while they waited for laconic cashiers to check them out. Usually the news was on, which Sephiroth watched with interest; privately he hoped for some small, violent fracas he could settle, or perhaps make worse if he was really bored. Today, though, there was just some drivel about Rufus Shin-Ra graduating from business school and taking his place as the Vice President of the Company. Sephiroth sighed in annoyance and looked away from the TV. Rufus, Rufus, Rufus—nothing but that blonde twit had been on the networks for ages. Yes he was good-looking, yes he was powerful, and yes he occasionally indulged in some exotic practices—Sephiroth wryly remembered his drug problem being plastered all over the news—but there was only so much that could be done on him! Privately Sephiroth thought he was a camera whore.

_"Too bad I can't kill him," _Sephiroth thought as he put his groceries on the conveyor belt._ "All of Midgar, probably the world, knows his face. If anything happened to him, there would be a public outcry... A wall of bodies rising up to find out what happened..."_

Sephiroth blinked. Something about that seemed important. He tried to concentrate on the fleeting impression, whatever it had been, before the pimpled cashier before him impatiently cleared his throat. At once, the idealet fled and Sephiroth glared, making the cashier jump nervously.

"Tha-that'll be sixty-four gil, sir..." The cashier stammered, and Sephiroth impatiently tossed a crumpled hundred-gil note on the belt; he never used a card for purchases around large numbers of people who might swamp him for an autograph, and no one would expect a crazy man to have a card anyway. The cashier gave him his change and Sephiroth picked up his groceries, walking out of the store with plastic bags in both hands to put the bags in his car. There were closer markets, but Sephiroth didn't want where he lived bruited about by visiting the nearest shop; enemies again. Besides, there were some thrift shops nearby where he could pick up comfortable, nondescript clothes for Toriko; he knew where they were because he'd picked up the very clothes he was wearing in those locations. The people there knew him too, but not as a crazy man who opened things; he was the man who left piles of clothes in the dressing room. He was neat at home and work, damn it, and that was where it counted.

Sephiroth walked into the nearest store and ignored the clerk as she called a lackluster greeting to him, not lifting her head from the magazine she was reading. Rufus was there too, Sephiroth noticed with a grimace, posing with a look that tried to be deep—deep like a goldfish bowl. The lady clerk seemed to be enjoying the magazine though, and Sephiroth wondered if Rufus was enough of a whore to pose topless in a centerfold. If that was the case, they were in the same boat. Stupid PR stunts.

Sephiroth made his way over to the girls' clothes and stood before the overstuffed racks, blinking at the array of horribly gaudy and (he thought) much too revealing slips of tee-shirts and pants. Everything glittered with fake rhinestones or buckles or even just glitter. Sephiroth resisted the urge to stick his hands in his pockets to not get the stuff all over him.

The door jingled. Normally Sephiroth wouldn't have paid attention, but he heard the clerk put down her magazine and exclaim, "Oh, Mr. Tuesti! We weren't expecting you today."

_"Tuesti?" _Sephiroth thought, turning around in surprise. _"Reeve Tuesti? The head of Urban Development?"_

Oh yes. It was he. Sephiroth hadn't spent countless board meetings with the man not to notice his shy, self-effacing demeanor or the annoying little goatee he neither shaved off nor grew into a full beard. It looked like a permanent spot of food he'd forgotten to wipe away. Like Sephiroth, he was in street clothes and looked much happier than he usually did.

"Well, the girls decided that today was the day they wanted to change their wardrobes," he said with a grin and a shrug. "Back-to-school, you know—never mind that they wear uniforms. So," Sephiroth's brows shot up as Reeve slung two massive black bags of clothing onto the counter. "I'm bringing their old things here. Someone might as well get use out of them."

"These are barely out of fashion!" The clerk exclaimed as she opened one bag and peered into it. "My goodness—and these labels! Your girls have expensive tastes."

"A condition that worsens as they get older, I'm afraid," Reeve said, but there was a twinkle in his eye that showed he really didn't mind. Sephiroth watched him curiously. Here was an actual father, one who loved his children and didn't sell them to science or conceive them horribly or do bad things to them—fathers were supposed to act like him. Though Sephiroth had always dismissed Reeve before, he now found himself very curious about him. "But I suppose I should enjoy buying their clothes while I can—they're not going to be little girls much longer."

"Ah," the clerk said with a knowing nod. She was a plump, matronly type of woman; Sephiroth guessed she had children too. "They do grow up fast. How old are they, exactly?"

"Twelve and fourteen," Reeve said.

"I'm sorry," the woman said.

Reeve laughed. "No, no, it's alright. Pretty soon they're going to be interested in boys and I'm going to go completely gray."

"Well, you'd look dignified," the clerk said with a smile as she put the bags from the counter and opened them up. "Silver is very sexy these days."

Reeve laughed again. "Oh, I wouldn't want Sephiroth to think I'm stealing his look," he joked lightly. For some reason, Sephiroth felt himself getting very angry. So he was a joke now, was he?

_"I'll show you what sort of joke I am...!"_

He throttled down the urge to hurt Reeve, knowing it was unreasonable and unfeasible, and as he took a deep breath to calm himself, Reeve turned to go. "Well, see you soon," he said to the clerk. "Winter wardrobes, you know." As the clerk laughed and waved him a friendly goodbye, Reeve turned, still smiling, and his dark brown eyes met Sephiroth's.

_"Shit," _Sephiroth thought. Unlike the general public, Reeve saw him at least once a month and knew his face well enough not to be fooled by the hat and contacts. Though the smile remained on his face, Reeve's eyes suddenly sharpened, almost like the lens of a camera.

"Se—" He began, but caught himself and drew it out in a long and surprisingly smooth, "aaaay, I haven't seen you in a long time. What are you doing here?" He asked, sauntering over. "What _are_ you doing here?" He asked in a low voice.

"Shopping," Sephiroth muttered back.

"For little girls' clothes?" Reeve asked, jerking his head at the rack. Sephiroth blinked once before realizing what he was getting at.

_"Be so glad I'm not armed," _Sephiroth thought furiously as he leveled a glare at Reeve. He had been accused of many horrible things in the past, but considering what his relationship was and had been planned to be with Toriko, this accusation hit him in a very sore place.

"I am no pedophile," he said evenly, in a special tone of voice that had made grown men pale.

Surprisingly, Reeve did not blanch. "I hope not," he said instead with a surprising ferocity in his voice, and Sephiroth recognized his parental protectiveness despite having never personally experienced it. "So what are you doing?"

This was a problem. Reeve could not know about Toriko, yet what other reason was there for Sephiroth to be in the little girls' clothing section? He looked down at Reeve, wondering what lie to tell him, and Reeve cocked his head, his lips twisting in an attempt to hide a smile. "So..." He said. "Colored contacts?"

"Your point?" Sephiroth asked, annoyed.

"Nothing against 'em," Reeve said mildly. "It's just that, well... My older daughter asked to have a pair yesterday."

It was like being stabbed in the gut with a needle. Sephiroth glared, but the look was lost on Reeve's back; he was picking through the thrift racks, saying, "How old is she?"

"What?" Sephiroth asked, blinking.

"Your daughter," Reeve said softly, his dark eyes boring into Sephiroth's. "How old is she?"

Sephiroth's blood went cold. "What makes you think—" He said evenly, but Reeve shook his head once, slowly.

"Can't think of another reason you'd be buying girl's clothes," Reeve said, his eyes full of feline satisfaction. "And at a thrift store—I'm guessing she's illegitimate. For some reason you're keeping her, but you don't want anyone to know." A corner of Reeve's mouth tipped up as he said, "Besides, you're a bit of a stud. Can't say I didn't see it coming."

Sephiroth snorted and looked away. Reeve went back to rifling through the clothes.

"Here's something," he said finally, pulling something blue and faded from the rack. Sephiroth turned and saw a plain denim skirt, straight cut and slightly frayed at the bottom. It was long, but looked about Toriko's size. "Sensible, but fashionable. A nice plain skirt flatters every girl." Reeve said to Sephiroth and put the skirt over his arm. Sephiroth blinked and looked at him in surprise; Reeve cringed away from him in the office.

_"Maybe he's being bolder because he has something on me."_

Reeve was good at finding girls' clothes. Within fifteen minutes, Sephiroth's arms were full of various skirts and shirts that were devoid of a youthful spunkiness that he sensed Toriko would find insulting, and also decent enough not to encourage thoughts of pedophilia. Reeve seemed to be having a good time, too; Sephiroth couldn't recall ever seeing the man so happy.

_"Of course, that's probably because he knows I've got a secret I want to keep hidden."_

_ "Toriko," _Sephiroth thought suddenly.

_ "Yes?" _Her reply was instant, though a little faint; apparently distance was still something of a barrier.

_ "I have clothes for you," _he said, _ "Do you like these?" _

Her wave of pure astonishment took him off-guard. Thoughts like, "That's too much!" and "Why is he doing this?" flitted over her mind, and Sephiroth sensed a growing knot of hope and confusion roiling within her. The rawness of the two emotions made him wince. He was just buying her clothes! He wasn't adopting her or saying that he loved her...

Too late he forgot she could hear his unguarded thoughts, and instantly Toriko withdrew, leaving him feeling small and empty. In the wake of her absence was a hurt he didn't want to explore, mostly because he already knew it well. He had it too, buried someplace he didn't visit often.

"What's wrong?" Reeve asked, making him blink. "You look like you're in pain."

That wasn't too far from the truth, but Reeve didn't need to know that. "Nothing," Sephiroth said. "Let's pay for these."

"Alright," Reeve said, smiling. "Let's. And after, let's go to your house."

"What?" Sephiroth whipped around in surprise.

Reeve grinned. "I'd like to see her."

"Do not push your luck," Sephiroth hissed, glaring down at him. "Toriko—"

"Toriko?" Reeve repeated, his brows rising. "Well, well."

Sephiroth would have slapped his face, but his arms were full of clothes and he would have sent them flying.

"What's the harm?" Reeve asked persuasively. "I already know she's there. All I want to do is see her."

_"And be able to identify her as Awe?" _Sephiroth thought with a mental growl. Toriko's face flashed across his mind; large, solemn green-gray eyes, a small and serious mouth, and a shaved palate, the better to put electrodes on... "She's sick," Sephiroth said.

"Sick?" Reeve frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She's..." Telling him Toriko was going to die would be out of the question; Reeve was in charge of Urban Development and would have ample access to death certificates. Besides, he might want to come to the "funeral". It had to be serious, but not really life-threatening. "She's very stressed from losing her mother. All her hair's fallen out. She doesn't want to be seen by anyone."

"Oh..." Reeve said, suddenly sympathetic. "Well... I suppose I can understand that." As they walked over to the counter, Reeve asked, "So how long have you been taking care of her?"

"Not for long," Sephiroth said truthfully. "Her mother died and her relatives haven't come yet, so she's staying with me."

Reeve nodded and their conversation stilled as Reeve's selection was rung up and paid for. Walking out of the store, Reeve said, "How did you end up with a Wutaiese daughter?"

"The result of a torrid affair," Sephiroth said evasively, looking away.

Reeve laughed softly and shook his head. "You young dog!"

_"I think you mean son-of-a-bitch." _Sephiroth just shrugged. "It didn't seem that special at the time. It just seemed...natural."

Reeve nodded and looked up at the sky, saying, "Some could argue that it is—passion, you know."

_"Passiont! A good way to explain it as any, I suppose..." _ "I know."

They parted ways at the corner of the block; Sephiroth's car was still in the market's lot, whereas Reeve was within walking distance of his house. Apparently he preferred doing things personally too. Waving, Reeve shot him one more grin before disappearing into the Sunday crowd of people. Sephiroth sighed and walked to his car.

_"Having Reeve know about Toriko is a liability..." _He thought as he got into his car, taking his keys out of his pocket. _"I would have him killed, except the Turks aren't allowed to be used against the executives... I could do it myself, but it would be messy; stealth kills aren't my area of expertise. Too much could go wrong with a mercenary, though..._

_"Besides, he's still in the public eye. His death would create more problems that it would solve since the people will want to know how one of their most powerful died._

_"But I can't keep Toriko hidden if someone knows about her!"_

Sephiroth blinked. He couldn't keep her hidden if only one person knew about her... But what about an entire city? What about a world?

_"If everyone knows I have a daughter, they'll be watching us like hawks. President Shin-Ra and Hojo will never get the chance to take her away..."_

Sephiroth bit his lip to swallow his grin. _This_ was what people got for fucking with him; unbelievable amounts of opposition. He chuckled as he turned the car on and backed out of the parking space.

_"Sorry, Toriko, but apparently you're going to become a camera whore, just as I used to be..." _

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

They SO would put him in a centerfold. Maybe not Playgirl-esque, but definitely something along the lines of Cosmo or those weird fashion ads that somehow feature people wearing no fashion at all. Sexy, you know::grin:

And yes, Rufus had a drug problem. You'll find out what it is later.

/\/\/\/\/\


	12. Chapter 11

Put Your Lights On

9.28.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I couldn't resist any more… 716 hits, damn! Almost as many as my FFX epic, Deliver Me, and I've no doubt Put Your Lights On will outstrip it. Not review-wise, though—PYLO has 20 as opposed to DE's 142.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Eleven

/\/\/\/\/\

The phone rang during dinner and Reeve, consummate businessman he was, rose to answer it. His wife and daughters groaned, but it was good-natured; Reeve hadn't gotten to where he was by just ignoring calls. Call Reeve if you needed something done; he'd always be there. Picking up the phone, he put it against his ear and said, "Hello?"

"Reeve, this is Sephiroth," murmured a low, deep voice that would have been suited to both a bedroom and a torture chamber. In any case, the sound of it sent chills down Reeve's spine. "I need your help."

Reeve blinked. "I'm sorry...what?"

"Honey, just hang up," his wife, Naomi, called, leaning over to look into the kitchen. "They're telemarketers."

No, no they were not. He flapped a hand at her and pressed the phone tighter to his ear as Sephiroth said, "You know what about."

How could he not? The idea of Sephiroth, the model citizen and soldier, with an illegitimate child made Reeve snicker. Not that he'd ever do so in front of Sephiroth while his sword was in range.

"I'll come to your house after work tomorrow," Sephiroth said and instantly the snickers, purely in Reeve's mind, stopped. "I imagine there are some papers—"

"What, _my_ house?" Reeve exclaimed, cupping his hand over the mouthpiece to hide his hiss from his family.

"Yes, your house."

Reeve glanced into the dining room, where he could see his wife and two daughters. His older girl, Rose, was fifteen and had been noticing boys ever since she'd been twelve. Sephiroth, actually, had been the one who'd started her on that bend. Reeve's stomach did flip-flops as he remembered that she had a door-sized poster of him in a less than decent pose. Reeve wasn't gay, but even that picture made him flustered, and not just because it was of a coworker.

"Don't come to my house!" He almost moaned.

Sephiroth actually sounded surprised. "Why not?"

"Because!" Reeve hastily turned away as his wife looked at him oddly. "Because," he said more quietly, his face turning red, "my older daughter is a fan of yours. A really big one."

There was a long pause. Reeve prayed he was making the smart choice. "I'll live," he said shortly, and Reeve shook from the effort of not banging his head on the wall.

"It really would be better to do this at your house," He hissed.

"No."

"I'll bring everything over."

"No."

"I'll bring beer!" Reeve said desperately.

There was another long pause. "Reeve," Sephiroth said, and Reeve couldn't decide whether he sounded amused or annoyed. "SOLDIERS don't drink alcohol. We can't break it down. Even one shot will give us a hangover from hell."

"Then I'll bring something else!" Reeve said. "Please don't come to my house!"

"...Your daughter has a poster of me, doesn't she?"

Reeve almost died. In the background, he thought he could hear someone laughing.

"It's alright, Reeve." Sephiroth said, his tone perfectly even. "Half the female population of Midgar does. I've long resigned myself to the fact that strange women will have suggestive pictures of me in their bedrooms."

"I'm sorry," Reeve said miserably.

"I'm still alive," Sephiroth said philosophically. "I'm just glad they didn't press too hard for nude photos."

Reeve pulled the phone away from his ear and stared as though a snake were going to emerge from it and bite him in the face. This time the laughing on the other end was audible, and it sounded strongly like there was more than one person doing it.

"Who _is_ that?" Naomi asked, frowning at him.

"Um... Harry," Reeve said, naming his assistant. "He's a little drunk."

Naomi frowned. "Well, tell him not to call during dinner. It's very rude."

"I will," he said, and put the phone back to his ear. The laughing seemed to be done now, or maybe the mouthpiece was just being covered. "Don't come to my house." He said to Sephiroth.

"No." There was a pause. Then Sephiroth said, "Alright. You can come here. I've been convinced that it's a bad idea to make you squirm."

"Thank you," Reeve said, absurdly grateful.

"Follow me after work," he said, and hung up. Reeve heaved a sigh of relief and put the phone back on the hook. "Harry," he said with a shrug, heading back to the dinner table. "That man does some...crazy things."

"Like what?" His younger daughter, Meryl, asked curiously. Like her sister and mother, her hair was very dark, but she had it cut short in a modern fashion that Reeve didn't much care for; fluffed out and highlighted with red. He had to concede that it looked cute, though.

"He asked me not to tell," Reeve said, neatly sidestepping the responsibility of keeping his lies straight. For a moment, he thought he saw an odd look in Naomi's eyes, but the look was there and gone; after a moment, he wasn't sure he'd even seen anything. "So," he said to Rose, picking up his fork again. "You were telling us about something at school?"

"Her boyfriend's stupid," Meryl said with a grin. Rose squawked and glared at her, her dark brown eyes narrowing. Reeve watched Meryl stick her tongue out at her older sister, wondering if Toriko was more like her or Rose.

"Boyfriend?" Naomi exclaimed, frowning. "We haven't heard of this boyfriend, have we, Reeve?"

"Hmm?" Reeve blinked. "Oh...no, we haven't." Naomi sighed and Reeve looked at her, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, but Reeve glanced at his daughters. Meryl was poking at her food but Rose was looking at him with the same annoyed/sad look that was on her mother's face. Reeve looked back at Naomi.

"Really, Naomi, what's wrong?" He asked, his frown deepening. "It's about me working when I'm at home, isn't it?"

"When you are home," Meryl muttered under her breath.

Reeve felt a twinge of guilt, as well as a flare of resentment. "Well, I—" He began to say, but Naomi cut him off with an annoyed shake of her head.

"It's alright, honey," she said, not looking at him. "We understand that you have to work. That your job is important. That sometimes things have to get put on the back burner."

"Not my family!" Reeve protested, but he felt an ugly little thread of agreement slide through him. He _had_ been doing just that, especially recently; people were flocking to Midgar ever since the end of the war, and it was up to him to create places for them to live, to work... To raise their families.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, looking around the table. It hurt him to see flat, almost distrustful eyes. "I really am. I'll stop taking calls during dinner, I promise."

"Okay, Daddy," Meryl said, smiling. Rose and Naomi smiled too, but he thought he could feel the distance from all of them, as though they were stepping away from him.

"Let's do something," he said. "I'll take the day—the week—off. We can go to Costa del Sol—"

"Really?" Rose exclaimed, her eyes brightened. Meryl gaped. Glancing at Naomi, though, he was surprised to see that her expression hadn't really changed. She shelved it quickly, though, and put a smile on her face.

"That sounds wonderful," she said. "When do you want to go?"

He really needed to check his schedule, but... "Next week," he said firmly. "We'll leave next week. I'll have my secretary—"

"No, I'll do it," Naomi said, her smile deepening. "Just like old times."

Reeve put his hand over his wife's affectionately. She was so beautiful. Her figure had thickened a little over fifteen years of marriage, but her smile still made his heart glow and Reeve thanked God every day he had married her. She was so wonderful, so supportive.

"I love you," he said, and Naomi squeezed his hand.

"I love you too," she said, and her smile made him feel warm all over.

Problem solved—well, patched, at least—dinner resumed and it was as though nothing had ever happened. Reeve sat in a bubble of warmth and happiness, basking in the glow of his family's love.

But...

Somehow, he could not get Sephiroth and the yet-unseen Toriko out of his mind. What were they doing? Were they like this, like a family? Did they even like each other? Reeve couldn't stop wondering, though he tried his very best not to be distracted. His family was much more interesting than work, and definitely more interesting than Sephiroth's...

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

In his head, at least. We all know better.

Ugh, considering skipping class today. I'm on whee and I'm afraid to lose this steam.

Just a brief technical note: Tuesti is Reeve's official last name. Check out the awesome Dirge of Cerberus site for confirmation! And his weird-ass costume. Why oh why did they put him in a dress? Kind of? Men are not meant to wear fitted ankle-length coats!

/\/\/\/\/\


	13. Chapter 12

Put Your Lights On

9.29.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Twelve

/\/\/\/\/\

Toriko finished dusting the couch and looked around, searching for any more possible specks of dirt. Sephiroth was a very neat person and she a dedicated cleaner, but there was something about the impending idea of guests that made her want to clean everything again, just to be sure it looked right.

Her bandana began to slip, and Toriko took it off to retie it around her head. In truth, it was more a headscarf than a bandana; Sephiroth had picked it up during clothes-shopping yesterday, saying that bald girls usually covered their heads out of embarrassment. Toriko wasn't particularly embarrassed about having no hair, but she had tied on the bandana anyway; her head often felt cold. It also itched from time to time, and Toriko took that as a sign that her hair was beginning to grow back.

She heard the jingle of keys and stood up at once, stuffing her dusting rag into one of the pockets of her skirt. She was wearing new clothes today, a stiff skirt that went down to her ankles and a long-sleeved shirt with cuffs that went over the backs of her hands, hiding her 00 tattoo from view. Sephiroth had viewed her tattoo with some small surprise before pulling off his left glove and showing her the identical marks there. The marks were gray from the passage of time, but stark enough against skin that had never seen the light of day.

"We'll get you gloves sometime," Sephiroth had said.

His concern confused her. Here he was, buying her clothes, offering to get her gloves, worrying about her modesty (she was wearing a scarf on her head, after all)—Toriko wished he wouldn't act like he cared and then say he didn't. It was almost as bad as her mother, who had been almost the opposite way. Beneath Seishi's confusing behavior, though, there had been a definite layer of parental warmth and protection. Sephiroth lacked that, and yet...

_"I wish he would make up his mind."_

The door opened and Sephiroth came in, followed by a dark-haired man with cunning eyes and a blue suit. He didn't see her at first, but looked around and said in Continental, "Nice place."

"Thank you," Sephiroth replied in the same, and looked at Toriko. "Are you feeling alright?"

Toriko remembered she was supposed to be ill. "Better today," she replied, and realized that both of them had spoken in Wutaiese. Reeve—for this had to be Reeve, the man Sephiroth had invited over yesterday—looked at them in surprise, but didn't say anything. Setting his briefcase on the counter, he flicked the brass clasps open and pulled out a stack of papers.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Reeve asked, looking at Sephiroth. "There's going to be quite a mess if you legitimize her."

Toriko gasped, staring at her father with a wide-eyed expression of mixed shock and horror. She tried not to pay attention to the surge of hope within her, since hope hurt her more often than not, but Sephiroth glanced at her and she knew he had noticed it all.

"I'm sure," he said, looking back at Reeve. "I want to keep her."

Toriko was glad she was supposed to be sick. It would allow her to faint without any messy explanations. But her knees locked and Toriko could only stand stiffly, still staring at Sephiroth as he sat down at the kitchen counter and picked up one of the cups of tea she had prepared earlier. It was still hot; she had known when he would be coming, after all.

"It would be quite a scandal," Reeve said, also sitting. "Your reputation would go down the drain."

Sephiroth's smile was grimly amused. "Maybe life would get interesting then."

Reeve looked at him seriously. "Raising a child is difficult," he said, "even with two people. You're alone, and she's sick. It's going to be draining; physically, financially, and emotionally. Are you absolutely positive you want to do this?"

"Yes," was the instant reply. Toriko saw the perfectly still expression on Sephiroth's face, mentally felt his determination. "She's mine, and I'm not letting anyone take her." Again, he was the exact opposite of Seishi.

"Not even her relatives?" Reeve asked, frowning.

"Especially not her relatives," Sephiroth said darkly, and Toriko wondered what he meant by that. She would have probed his mind, but that was rude and besides, his thoughts were something of an iron wall. Other than the most superficial thoughts and memories, she could access nothing. "They wouldn't treat her well," he said, bringing her back to the present, "seeing as she's my daughter."

Reeve blinked, frowning. "But..."

"Most Wutaiese people spit at the mention of me," Sephiroth replied. "Toriko's relatives will take her because I will send them money every month, but more likely than not they're going to abuse her and work her until she dies." Sephiroth turned to Toriko and held his hand out; woodenly she realized what he wanted her to so and walked forward, her knees creaking as she slowly crossed the floor. As she came to his side, he put his arm around her slight shoulders and said, "That's no life for any daughter of mine."

_"The life of a prostitute is not for any daughter of mine."_

Toriko felt a stab of guilt burn deep in her heart. Seven years old wasn't enough to understand, only old enough to think, _"She doesn't want me anymore."_ Toriko sent a silent apology to her mother.

Reeve sighed gustily and began flipping through his papers. "Alright, let's get to it. I assume you have her birth certificate?"

"No," Sephiroth said.

Reeve looked at him. "You don't have it on you, or you don't have it at all?"

"She was never issued one," Sephiroth said, and Toriko nodded. Birth certificates existed in Wutai, but not for bastards.

Reeve turned around, facing the both of them. "What about a citizen's ID number?" He asked. Sephiroth shook his head. "Medical records?" Again the shake. "Does she have anything?"

"No," Sephiroth said, "which is why I'm asking you for help."

Reeve looked at him in annoyance, but his eyes were sharp and considering. "Any particular reason you're coming straight to me and not going through the regular channels?"

"I don't feel like broadcasting Toriko's presence all over Midgar just yet," Sephiroth said. Toriko sensed there was something else, but she couldn't tell exactly what it was. Something about the element of surprise... "Besides, you know long the bureaucracy would take."

Reeve nodded and sighed again. "There has to be something illegal about this," he muttered, hunting through his stack of papers. "Dead certain of it." Whipping out a sheet, he said, "This is a birth record. If she really is illegitimate, this is all she's going to have."

"What are the rest of those papers for, then?" Sephiroth asked, nodding at Reeve's briefcase.

"Citizenship forms," Reeve replied, passing him several stapled packets of paper. "She'll need to be registered as a Midgarian if she's going to live with you."

"I see," Sephiroth said. He let go of Toriko and began to fill out the birth records sheets, with Toriko leaning over to see what he was writing. Reeve made a small noise of surprise. "What?" Sephiroth asked, looking up.

"Nothing," Reeve said. "Just didn't realize you were left-handed."

"Ambidextrous," Sephiroth said, and put the pen in his other hand. "Useful trait to have when one of your arms is broken."

"I can imagine," Reeve said. He looked at Toriko. "Can you speak Continental?"

"No," Sephiroth said before she could answer. Toriko kept her face blank to maintain that fiction.

_ "People will speak carelessly around you if they don't think you understand them," _Sephiroth explained quietly. _ "Besides, some of the people you will later meet will be quite cunning, and you need to stay quiet until you learn how to deal with them." _

_ "I shall be guided by you in this, Father." _ Toriko said in understanding.

"Is this all?" Sephiroth asked, handing the paper back to Reeve. Reeve scanned it and scribbled something at the bottom of it.

"Yes, for the birth records," he said and passed Sephiroth another stack of papers. "These are essential medical records. Every child in Midgar has to get some shots—vaccinations—and Toriko has to have records of those too."

Shots! Toriko knew what those were. She almost clutched her elbow in reflex, where the big vein that Hojo had dripped Mako into was, but remembered at the last second that she wasn't supposed to understand Continental. Turning away from Reeve, she looked at her father.

"What did he say?" She asked.

Sephiroth looked down at her. "That you have to get shots—but Toriko, Reeve has no understanding of Wutaiese. We can speak normally in this language."

Trickier and trickier... Toriko hoped she would be able to keep up when the tricks got subtler. In any case, now that Sephiroth had spoken of shots, Toriko was free to grab her arm protectively. Reeve saw her gesture and chuckled.

"They're really not that painful," he said. To Sephiroth he said, "I'd recommend she get them as soon as possible. No need to forge documents if we don't have to."

"No," Toriko said in Wutaiese, the memory of Mako burning through her veins making her go cold with fear. She looked at Sephiroth plaintively and felt his assent.

"I can guarantee she'll have an adverse reaction to conventional medications," Sephiroth said to Reeve. "And she doesn't need shots. She's perfectly fine."

"These vaccinations will prevent her from getting diseases that could potentially kill her," Reeve said, frowning and looking at the both of them. "Are you sure you want to chance that?"

"No shots," Toriko said, clutching her arm tighter and shaking her head.

"No shots," Sephiroth agreed, and his bright green eyes were serious.

Reeve looked at the two of them and sighed, shaking his head. "Alright," he said, and took the papers back from Sephiroth. "I'll find doctors to fake these."

"Bribery?" Sephiroth inquired.

Reeve looked at him in surprise. "Bribery can be traced," he said, "even in cash. But a visit from the Turks, well..."

"Well," Sephiroth said, a slight smile touching the corners of his mouth. Toriko looked at the both of them, vaguely appalled. Men were violent creatures, but she'd already known that. Apparently, even gentle-looking ones like Reeve could be bloodthirsty.

"Application for Midgar ID," Reeve said, giving Sephiroth another set of papers. "And a citizen's number." Looking at Toriko, Reeve said, "You know, I have a daughter who's just about her age. Maybe they should meet sometime when Toriko learns to speak."

Toriko almost said no—the cruelty of children could give Hojo's torture some serious competition—but she saw the earnest look in Reeve's eyes and curiously she brushed his mind, searching for his impressions of his daughter. Distorted though she was through a loving father's eyes, Meryl seemed to be a sensible, open-minded girl who was grown-up for her age. Toriko wondered if meeting her would hurt.

_"It might. I don't particularly care to be reminded of all I could have had if only life been different. Then again, she could be nice..."_

_ "Father, can I?"_

_ "That's not a good idea," _ Sephiroth thought sharply.

Toriko felt a surge of annoyed rebellion rising inside her, one that fell quickly in the face of one very simple fact—Sephiroth was her biological father, and he was becoming her father on paper too. She was duty-bound to obey him.

But he hadn't explicitly said no, had he?

_ "It will be an educational experience," _she said back, and she sensed his discontent.

"Maybe," Sephiroth said reluctantly, and Toriko almost grinned. "Done," he said, handing Reeve the finished papers.

Reeve nodded. "One more thing," he said. "How old is Toriko?"

"Eleven," Sephiroth said, glancing at her for confirmation. When she nodded, he looked at Reeve and asked, "Why?"

"She needs to be enrolled in school," Reeve replied.

Sephiroth blinked. Toriko was stunned, but did not show it. School; she knew vaguely what it was. Children went there to learn things; normal children, that is.

"Is that really necessary?" Sephiroth asked, frowning.

Reeve looked at him like he was insane. "Of course it's necessary," he said. "She needs to learn things like reading and writing; history, math, social studies. Not to mention interaction with her peers..."

The idea of facing normal children made Toriko's stomach squirm. She remembered encountering children in Wutai. They had reviled her for her parentage and strange eyes, and Toriko could feel the stones banging off her head and back.

"I don't want to," she said in Wutaiese, looking at her father.

"She doesn't want to," Sephiroth repeated, looking at Reeve with a slight frown.

"Nobody wants to," Reeve said with a smile. "But we all have to."

"I didn't," Sephiroth said.

Reeve looked at him in surprise. "You didn't? Then how did you learn to read?"

"I..." Sephiroth stopped on the verge of saying something too revealing. Briefly Toriko caught glimpses of textbooks and flashcards in his mind, their letters stark against the white sterility of a cell. She shuddered inside. "I had tutors." Sephiroth said.

Reeve frowned. "Well... That could work. But she'll miss out on having friends her own age."

_ "Children my age are mean!" _Toriko thought hotly. _ "Who would want _anything_ to do with them?" _

_ "And they're stupid," _Sephiroth agreed, and to Reeve said, "She'll manage."

Reeve looked at them and shook his head. "Alright," he said, shrugging. "There are still a series of tests you'll have to take, however."

"Tests?" Sephiroth frowned. "What kind of tests?"

"Proficiency tests." Reeve said, surprised. "Don't tell me you didn't take those either."

Sephiroth and Toriko blinked, the same thought going through their minds. They had taken proficiency tests, numerous ones—they'd just taken them with Hojo, and he wasn't likely to give them their results.

"Oh boy," Reeve sighed. Taking out a paper, he scribbled a number on it and handed it to Sephiroth, saying, "The tests can only be given by licensed professionals; that number is for their office. Call them and they'll set something up for you."

Sephiroth nodded and put the paper by the PHS. "Anything else?"

Reeve looked thoughtful. "Nothing right now," he said finally. "Except one last thing."

"That being?" Sephiroth asked, sounding vaguely annoyed.

"How are you going to break this to the public?" Reeve asked, looking at him. "Are you going to call a press conference?"

Toriko looked in Reeve's mind to see what he meant by 'press conference' and was stunned by his nightmarish image of people screaming things at him.

"A closed broadcast," Sephiroth said, and Toriko caught his image of a quiet room and a few cameras.

"How are you going to say it?" Reeve asked, leaning on the kitchen counter. "'I have a daughter' is a little blunt."

"But effective," Sephiroth said with a slight smile.

"Do you not care about your reputation at all?" Reeve asked, his voice a mixture of chagrined and amused.

"Not really," Sephiroth said. Toriko wondered if that was why he had raped women in Wutai. "Besides, people will start talking as soon as we appear in public together."

Toriko looked at him, her eyes going wide. Reeve stared. Then he asked, "Sephiroth. You seem to be going to a lot of trouble to make sure people know Toriko's there; that she's your daughter and you're going to take care of her. Why?"

"Why not?" Sephiroth said, looking back at him. "She is and I'm going to."

Reeve's eyes narrowed. "You're afraid of her being taken away." Quicker than Toriko could react, Reeve snatched her left hand up and pulled the sleeve back, exposing the 00 tattoos on her hand. Sephiroth hissed through his teeth and Toriko pulled her hand back, hiding it behind her. Reeve looked at Sephiroth, his eyes narrowing. "This is Awe, isn't it? The one Hojo's looking for? The one the President is sparing no expense to find?"

"No," Sephiroth said harshly, and his hands were on Toriko's shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin. They felt like a lion's claws. "This is Toriko. She is my daughter. Hojo and the President will never touch her."

Reeve looked at Sephiroth, his emotions a roiling cloud behind his dark brown eyes. Sephiroth looked stonily back. Toriko shrank, physically and psychically, as the men glared at each other.

"You're making me risk losing my job," Reeve said softly.

"Do you know what Hojo wants to do to her?" Sephiroth asked in just as soft a tone. "What he was already doing to her?" Reeve's eyes flickered and Sephiroth went on, saying, "You've heard Hojo's research proposals in the meetings. You know how off the bend he is, and how President Shin-Ra just goes along with him. Toriko must never be at their mercy." Changing his tone just every so slightly, Sephiroth asked, "Would you want your daughter in her place?"

"Would you help me if she was?" Reeve asked sharply, his eyes narrowing. "If I came to you, seeing you as the only person who could help me, would you stick your neck out to do it?"

_ "No," _ Toriko could hear Sephiroth thinking. _ "I would have too much to lose and nothing to gain." _ But to Reeve he said, "There are things more important than jobs. I wouldn't have believed it a while ago, but now..." He squeezed Toriko's shoulders briefly.

Reeve looked at them for a long moment. Toriko could feel a beat of sweat rolling down her head, trickling along the edge of her bandana. Time passed in the soft ticking of the clock upon the wall, each 'click' another notch in a growing anxiety. Sephiroth's pulse beat in his fingertips, and she could feel its rising tattoo in her shoulders, filtering through her blood to raise her own heart rate. Then Reeve sighed and the awful tension broke.

"I'll regret this," he said, gathering the papers and straightening them. "But you owe me, so maybe that will stop me from regretting it as much as I might."

Sephiroth inclined his head toward Reeve. "Thank you, Reeve."

Reeve snorted and put the papers in his briefcase. "Don't thank me. I will turn on you if my family is threatened."

"I understand," Sephiroth said, and Toriko was surprised to learn that he did. Reeve closed his briefcase and slid off the kitchen stool, walking toward the door.

"See you at the office," he said, and let himself out.

Toriko looked at Sephiroth and blinked when she found he was already looking at her. For a moment they stared at each other. Then Sephiroth asked, "What do you feel like eating?"

"What do I—" Toriko sputtered. "Why are you doing all this for me!"

"Don't be silly," Sephiroth said. "I'm doing this for you and me. We both need to eat." Toriko opened her mouth, and he held up his hand to stall her, saying, "I know what you mean. And the answer is the same."

"What do you have to gain from declaring me?" Toriko demanded, clenching her hands into fists.

"You," he said, and Toriko looked at him uncomprehendingly. His expression didn't change, but she began to sense discomfort building in him, discomfort that was rooted in...chocobos? Surely not! "Your safety. And... Well, mastery over my life." She looked at him, perplexed, and Sephiroth sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "I control all the parts of my life as well as I'm able. That includes who my children are...to a certain extent," he said, dipping his head toward her. When Toriko nodded, he fell silent and half-closed his eyes, looking away. "I don't want the decision of whether or not I have children being left in the hands of someone else."

"I don't understand," Toriko said, frowning.

Sephiroth looked at her and didn't say anything for a long time, studying her instead with green eyes that were so intense that it hurt to look at them. Yet Toriko forced herself to look back. She sensed that if she looked away, he would too, and they would never speak of this subject again.

"You and I are special," he said, and Toriko nodded—she knew what he meant. "As far as I know, we're the only two members of a species that Shin-Ra is trying to breed. Seeing as I'm male and you're female..." He looked at her expectantly, willing her to complete the statement. Toriko tried. Male plus female plus breed equaled—

Toriko did not scream, but her face went completely white and she felt herself tipping. Someone else's memories streaked across her mind, bloody memories of sounds and sensations that no girl was supposed to hear or feel. Sephiroth caught her, but someone else's reflex made her lash out, clawing him across the face. He jerked out of the way just in time to avoid a blinding.

"Don't touch me!" Toriko screamed, twisting away from him. He grabbed her by the arm and looked at her sharply, his feline pupils narrowing.

"Seishi...?" He breathed before jerking back again; Toriko's left hand raked the air his face had occupied split seconds before. Grabbing her other arm, Sephiroth looked intensely at her, his eyes flashing. "Toriko, stop this at once! I'm not going to hurt you! I took you from the Building specifically so they could _not_ breed us."

Toriko stared at him. "What?"

"And this whole business of legitimizing you and making you known," he went on. "This is to protect you. It'll be impossible for them to do anything—kidnap you, take you to the lab—with all Midgar watching us."

True...

"Nothing will happen to you," he said, squeezing her arms. "Nothing will happen. You will not be the mother of my children."

Toriko felt like throwing up. Water began to pool in her mouth, a sure sign of vomit to come. She swallowed and fought down the urge with long, deep breaths until she thought she could speak without screaming.

"That's good," she said weakly.

Sephiroth nodded, and a slight frown came over his features. "You look pale," he said. "You should lie down."

Toriko nodded numbly. She let her knees go loose; Sephiroth pulled her up as she began to slide to the floor.

"I meant on the bed," he said.

"Oh." With some effort, she forced her legs to move again and Sephiroth let go of her shoulders. Turning stiffly away, Toriko tottered down the hall, trying not to wince as someone's memory of pain stabbed her between the legs. She could feel Sephiroth watching her in concern, and in the past, savage satisfaction.

_"Damn you, Mother." _Toriko thought, tears seeping down her face. _"Damn you."_

She was sure the idea of interbreeding wouldn't have bothered her so much if she hadn't had her mother's all-too-vivid memories of rape. Seishi wasn't a normal woman in the fact that she recognized the fact she'd been raped and nursed it like an infant; if only she had repressed the memory, Toriko wouldn't have received such violent images of sex. She wouldn't have suddenly and irrationally become afraid of her father, who had so far done only good things for her. Incest was obviously just as abhorrent to him as it was to her, but dear lord, she could literally see it happening.

She balked in the doorway, fear clenching her stomach in iron claws as she stared at Sephiroth's bed. It was very soft, she knew that. It was clean, It was warm. He wouldn't bother her while she was there. And yet...

_"Not there. Not again."_

Toriko turned around and walked back to the living room.

"What are you doing?" Sephiroth asked, looking at her in surprise. He hadn't moved from the counter; apparently he'd been deep in thought. Toriko turned slowly to look at him and burned his face into her mind; cool, distant, but still with concern in his eyes, worry in his face. He met her gaze, and then flinched when he saw what was behind it.

"I'll, ah... Get you a blanket," he muttered uncomfortably, his eyes sliding away from hers. "And a bed of your own." Sliding off the stool, he left the living room using a brisk stride that would have been called 'fleeing' in another man. Toriko walked around to sit on the couch and stared out of the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sephiroth's penthouse. The sun was setting bloody and red outside, and the Shin-Ra Building looked like it was on fire—or built of hellfire.

"Damn you all," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Why can't you leave us alone?"

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

A long and tedious chapter. I'll try not to do it too often. Yeah...

And some of you may think Reeve is uncharacteristically... You know. Siccing the Turks on someone doesn't really seem like his thing, right? But remember that he did go along with Marlene's kidnapping, and he wouldn't get so far in the Shin-Ra hierarchy if he weren't willing to play a little dirty. He may be an inherently nice and noble guy, but I bet you his rivals for the spot weren't. It's like an arms race, where you have to build up your arsenal in order to take out the other guy without having it come to anything. Reeve would be good at that.

/\/\/\/\/\


	14. Chapter 13

Put Your Lights On

9.30.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Thirteen

/\/\/\/\/\

"Shit," Rufus muttered, shutting off the broadcast. "Well, he's got some stones, I'll give him that."

It was a week since Rufus had assumed his duties as the Shin-Ra Company's Vice President—not a difficult job, since he'd been closely watching his father all his life—and the fuss kicked over his ascension was nothing compared to the furor that had arisen when Sephiroth had calmly gone on the air and delivered an almost deliberately incendiary statement.

"People of Midgar and the world," he had said, his face perfectly blank and straight. "I regret to inform you that I am not perfect. I'm human, and like every person, I make mistakes. Like every adult, I'm taking responsibility for them. I've called you here today to inform you that I have an illegitimate child, and I am formally adopting her. Thank you for your time."

Only Sephiroth could say something so momentous in so flat a voice with so calm a face. Rufus admired him. How much botox had been used to accomplish that stillness? The pain must have been excruciating. Seriously, though, his lack of expression pointed at a supreme sense of self-control. He'd need every ounce of it. The people of Midgar—and the world—were not happy with him at all.

_"I imagine quite a few women out there fainted dead away."_

The thought made Rufus snicker. He liked it when other people got in trouble. It was funny. Usually it was profitable for him. If Sephiroth hadn't gone public with the existence of his girl, Rufus would have blackmailed him for all his worth.

_"My personal hitman... Not that the Turks aren't good, but still..."_

Interestingly, Sephiroth hadn't named his daughter or even shown her picture during the broadcast. This made Rufus and the rest of the world fiendishly curious to know everything about her. Repeated requests to Sephiroth reveal more information about her had been met with his customary reticence, and he had holed himself and his daughter up in his apartment for the day, besieged by a yelling mob. If this continued much longer, the public was going to starting relying on the tabloids to feed their curiosity. Normally Rufus didn't care, but if they started believing one thing in the tabloids, what was to say they wouldn't believe other crap? Like Mako reactors killing the Planet... Or him being addicted to painkillers.

_"You mix sleeping pills and alcohol one time, and they never let you forget it."_

His PHS rang and Rufus pulled it out of his pocket, flipping it open at once. "Rufus here," he said.

"Rufus," his father said in the tight, barely controlled tone that had always made him flinch as a child. "Have you seen Sephiroth's latest press statement?"

"Yes," Rufus said, trying to keep the smile out of his voice. "Peacetime must have finally driven him nuts."

"Don't say that," President Shin-Ra said sharply. "Do you know what she looks like?"

"His daughter? No."

"Well, you will. He's bringing her to the Building later today."

"What?" Rufus exclaimed, sitting up. He was in his office, so he didn't have far to go, but... "Why?"

"Because the public is demanding more information," President Shin-Ra grated. "And he's going to give it to them. We're standing behind him to show that we still support him even though he's done some stupid things."

"Are we sure it's a good idea to make it look like we're supporting his actions?" Rufus wondered.

"If we don't, that means he will be entirely on his own during this matter; saying whatever he wants without permission to disclose."

"Ah."

"I'd rather keep an eye on him," President Shin-Ra said. "He can't override you or me during a broadcast and he'll be further hindered by the presence of his child, so I want you to be there and help me cut him off if it looks like he's going to say something stupid."

Could you get much stupider than declaring an illegitimate child? "What time?" Rufus said.

"3:30," President Shin-Ra said. "Meet us fifteen minutes earlier in the green room."

"Yes, father," Rufus said, but President Shin-Ra had already hung up. Rufus snapped his PHS shut and slipped it back into his pocket. Leaning back in his chair, he drummed his fingernails on the surface of his desk.

_"Sephiroth's not stupid,"_ Rufus thought. _"Why would he commit public suicide?"_ He couldn't imagine it to be an attack of conscience—taking responsibility, that type of crap. If you could get away with something, you did—that was the Shin-Ra creed. And yet...

Rufus glanced at the clock. It was 9:46, a little over five hours until the next press conference. Rufus had work to fill the time, of course, but it held no interest for him in the light of these terribly interesting new happenings. Rufus picked up the phone and dialed the number for Sephiroth's PHS.

Ring. Ring. Click. "Sephiroth," came the curt voice.

"Hello," He said. "It's Rufus."

"Mr. Vice President," Sephiroth said politely. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm just curious to know what you're thinking," Rufus said, and he sensed the other man going still. "I don't suppose you could explain...?"

There was a long pause. "I've grown fond of my daughter," Sephiroth said quietly. "And Shin-Ra has a way of eliminating its mistakes. This is to protect her."

"I see," Rufus said, nodding. Drumming his fingertips again, he said, "This makes the Company look bad. Aren't you afraid of your own elimination?"

Again the long pause. "I can defend myself," Sephiroth said finally. "My daughter can't."

"What's her name?" Rufus asked curiously.

Another pause. "Toriko."

"Toriko? Isn't that a—" Rufus bit his lip, trying not to laugh. "Well, well... So fighting wasn't the only thing you were doing over there."

"War is only so entertaining."

Rufus laughed. "Apparently! What about her mother?"

"Dead." There was another pause. "You're prepping me for the press conference later today, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Rufus agreed. "This is an extremely sensitive subject, and I have had experience with things like this before."

Yet another pause. Rufus had to wonder about those. Was he just not as mentally quick on his feet as he used to be, or was there something going on behind those shifty green eyes of his? At length Sephiroth spoke.

"You would," he said, and he spoke in such a tone of voice that it was merely a statement, not an insult. "Is there anything I should absolutely avoid saying?"

Rufus leaned back in his chair. "I've got some time to kill," he said. "I'll come to your house and we'll talk."

"Alright," Sephiroth said. "Thank you for your consideration, sir."

Sir? Rufus nearly laughed. He was about ten years younger than Sephiroth, and only his position made the esteemed General call him 'sir'. And thank him.

"No problem," Rufus said magnanimously. "Besides, it'll give me a chance to see your daughter before the rest of the world does. I'll be over in thirty minutes."

"Yes, sir."

Rufus pressed the lever and dialed his driver. After directing him to meet him in the lobby, Rufus called one more number.

Click. "This is Tseng."

"Tseng, this is Vice President Shin-Ra. I need an armed escort."

"Yes, sir. Where to?"

"Sephiroth's apartment."

A pause. My, wasn't that becoming frequent? "Maybe SOLDIERS would be better," Tseng said. "There's quite a large group of people there, and SOLDIERS are more physically intimidating."

"Good point," Rufus agreed. "And good idea. Request a squad to escort us."

"Yes, sir."

"Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes, along with two other Turks. Not Reno; he's not presentable to the media."

"Yes, sir."

Rufus hung up and rose to his feet, whistling. Dark Nation, the present his father had given to him upon graduation, lifted its head from its crossed paws, black eyes gleaming in its blue-furred face.

"Up, boy," he said, and Dark Nation obediently stood. "Let's go," he said, putting on his coat and walked out of the office, his pantheround walking silently next to him. "Sheila," he said to his secretary, "I'm going out for a few hours."

"Shall I hold your calls?" She asked; mousy and rather unattractive, she was nonetheless efficient and trustworthy. Rufus preferred her over the curvy blonde things his father seemed to adore.

"No," Rufus said. "They'll call again if it's urgent."

Sheila nodded. "Have a nice walk, sir."

"I will." He strode to the elevator and pressed the down button. Something seemed to be missing... "Shoot. Nation, go back and get my gun."

The intelligent pantheround nodded and trotted back to his office, coming back a second later with a powerful shotgun that had been customized just for him. The prehensile tentacle that sprouted from the base of Dark Nation's neck was curled around the barrel, and Rufus took the gun from it.

"Thank you," he said, scratching behind Nation's ears. Dark Nation's long blue tail switched slowly from side to side, an indication the beast was pleased. The elevator chimed, opening, and the two of them stepped in. Rufus stuck the featherlite gun in a special holster inside his coat, where it would lie unnoticed until it was too late.

Tseng, Rude, and a Turk with strange cornrows Rufus didn't recognize were waiting for him in the lobby. "The SOLDIERS are en route, sir," Tseng said, dipping his head in greeting. "The Seventh is already securing the building."

"Excellent," Rufus said. "Let's go."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce a new phrase into the fanfic community. Hopefully someday, it will join the universally understood ranks of OOC, slash, and LMAO. I use this opportunity because it amply describes the freakish rate at which I am churning out these things.

Writers on whee.

Silver Whirl and I came up with it when she was talking about one of her stories and being too bored/tired/fatigue to write it. She wasn't blocked, she explained, she just had ennui. Me, being stupid, heard 'on whee', which is pronounced exactly the same way. And I took French! Later, we got the misunderstanding cleared up and the phrase 'writers on whee' was born. It means you get a good idea and you run with it like a rabbit on caffeine. How far do you go before you crash? You don't know, you just keep going. You can't interrupt the Whee. The Whee trumps everything! I've been on Whee for nine days now. I'm starting to think I should eat...

And Rufus has an M37. I swear.

/\/\/\/\/\


	15. Chapter 14

Put Your Lights On

9.30.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm adverse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Fourteen

/\/\/\/\/\

Toriko stood at the curtained window, her eyes closed as she listened to the angry cries of the mob outside. Headless and formless, they surged at the base of the building like a storm-lashed ocean, driven by a cloud of fury and betrayal that confused and frightened her. She didn't need to probe their minds to hear the questions on them, one shared by men and women alike. How could you do this to us, Sephiroth? We trusted you!

"Come away from the window," Sephiroth said from the kitchen counter. Ever since his announcement, taped in the apartment and sent out to the networks, Sephiroth had been brooding. Rather than make him frightening, however, it seemed to take off some of his sharp edges. The longer Toriko stayed with him, the less afraid she became.

"Why are they so angry?" She asked, looking at him.

"They take their heroes very seriously," he said. He was drinking some strange-smelling brew he called coffee; Toriko had tried it, but even liberal amounts of milk and sugar didn't make it tasty. Sephiroth drank it nearly black. "I did a lot for them, and I'm near and dear to their hearts. Something like this—it makes them lose faith. They don't know to believe in anymore." He took a sip of his coffee. "Move away from the window. I wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to take a shot at us."

"What?" Toriko exclaimed. "Why?"

"Me, because I disappointed them," he said. "You, because they think you've ruined me."

Toriko scoffed, but walked away from the window. "They give me too much credit." She said, joining him at the kitchen counter. He pushed her a cup of tea; when had he made it? How had he known she wanted one? Toriko wrapped her hands around it and blew the steam away. There were perks to being mentally close to someone.

"A problem we share," he murmured. They drank in silence for a moment, listening to the angry shouts outside, before Sephiroth spoke. "I've done you a great disservice, Toriko."

"What do you mean?" She asked, looking up at him.

"From this day forward, you're going to be hounded by cameras," he said, looking at her seriously. "They're going to follow you all the time, never giving you a moment's peace. They'll try to catch you doing bad things, and when they can't, they'll make up stories. You will live forever persecuted." Tilting his head, he said, "But the more they see you, the harder it will be for Hojo to take you away."

Toriko nodded and sipped her tea. "I'll be alright. I've not had much privacy my whole life. This will be no different."

Sephiroth smiled briefly. "That's my girl."

Toriko blinked. "What?"

"What?" Sephiroth looked down at her.

Toriko stared. Her mouth was going dry, but it didn't occur to her to drink her tea. "Are you..." She asked haltingly. "Are..."

"Spit it out," he said a little impatiently.

"Are you...really going to be...my father?"

Sephiroth looked down at her, his expression unreadable. Taken off-guard by her question, though, Toriko could sense a welter of thoughts swirling in his head. What kind of question is that/I already am/not this again/what does she want/well, I'm stuck with her anyway/how can I, when I didn't have one myself...

"To the best of my abilities," he said.

To the best of his abilities. Toriko considered this. It was better than nothing.

"Alright," she said gravely. "I'll do the same."

Sephiroth nodded. "Alright."

They looked up as a loud knock sounded on the door, and they stood as one, Toriko smoothing down her clothes and Sephiroth sighing a little.

"That would be Rufus," he murmured and went to answer the door.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

The first draft of this was a little—a lot—more touchy-feely, and I thought about it for a while, and it seemed odd to me that either of them would agree to physical contact. Toriko's not had much experience with it, and neither has Sephiroth, so hugging is an alien concept to them. Plus, it's not appropriate at this stage in the story. They don't actually like each other yet.

And thanks to Jehrahldeen, who caught two glaringly huge missteps in Ch. 12; in the first draft of the story, everyone knows Toriko is bilingual, but I changed it so she could silently learn politics, and I thought I cleaned up that thing... Oh well.

And on another note (since I'm now accepting reviews) thanks to everyone who's dropped me a line during my online silence! I'm surprised so many people like this fic; in particular, I'd like to thank Silver Whirl, my beta reader, and Ardwynna Morrigu, who goes out of her way to drop me a review nearly every chapter. :grins: Makes me so happy!

/\/\/\/\/\


	16. Chapter 15

Put Your Lights On

9.30.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Fifteen

/\/\/\/\/\

"Jeeeeezus," Zack breathed, his eyes going wide. "Would you look at that?"

No wonder the General had holed himself up in his apartment; he wouldn't even have been able to leave if he'd wanted to! In a thick ring some forty people deep, angry and confused citizens of Midgar railed vocally outside the General's apartment building. Luckily, fear of the General's prowess had kept the angry mob outside from actually trying to storm the place, which made Zack glad. He and the rest of the Seventh, who had helped Sephiroth clear monsters only the day before yesterday, were standing in a wary ring around the base of the building, swords within reach.

"Scary shit, huh?" One of his teammates called to him.

"No kidding!" Zack called back. "You'd think he'd killed babies!"

"He just had a love baby, that's all!" Cracked another teammate, and the three of them laughed.

"Hey!" One of the angry mob yelled. Zack noticed it was a woman. "This isn't funny, you know!"

"Sure it is," Someone else said. "His professional life is perfect, but he's still got problems."

"It makes us feel closer to him," the first teammate quipped.

Closer, huh? Zack looked at the angry hordes and the brilliant lights of the TV crews that were filming all the action. The shouts of the reporters were hopelessly garbled with those of the mob, joining a sea of swaying, shouting heads.

_"I don't know..." _Zack thought, flexing his hand around the hilt of his sword. _"Some people may get off on the whole celebrity kick, but I wouldn't want to be any closer to this shit than I am already... And I suspect the General feels the same way. He naturally attracts attention, but he never asks for it."_

Over the waving fists and bobbing heads of the crowd, Zack saw an armored van pull up to the sidewalk, the red Shin-Ra logo gleaming on its side, and relief swept through him as another group of SOLDIERS (Third-Class, by their smaller swords and the barely noticeable glow in their eyes) jumped out, adding their voices to the mob's confusion as they fanned out, surrounding the crowd. Zack wondered what they were doing until he saw a sleek black car, also emblazoned with the Shin-Ra logo, pulling up to the sidewalk.

_"Hello!" _Zack thought, his brows rising in surprise, as the doors opened and Rude of the Turks stepped out. At the sight of his blue-black suit, the closest mob members shrank back, and the receding of that tide let Zack see who came out next.

"Is that the little Shin-Ra?" One of Zack's teammates exclaimed.

"Sure looks like it!" The SOLDIER on Zack's right shouted back. "Don't let him hear you call him that, though."

Zack heard them only peripherally. He was too interested in seeing yet another Turk—Tseng, by the bindi on his head—slide out of the car and take his place on Rufus's left side, his black gun almost disappearing against the dark blue fabric of his suit. The closest Third-Class SOLDIERS began to push through the crowd, trying to make a walkway for Rufus. Zack dimly heard cries of "Move it!" "Get out of the way!" and "Make way for the Vice President!"; he was sure the mob heard about the same. In any case, they didn't move. Rather, as the Third-Class SOLDIERS pushed, some genius got the idea to grab them and yank them in, immobilizing their otherwise deadly strength by sheer force of numbers. Zack hissed, his eyes narrowing, and gripped his sword. Blocked from directly venting their frustration on the General, these injured fans were going to hurt regular SOLDIERS instead...

Rufus's eyes narrowed and Zack would have sworn he looked concerned, except that all of the Shin-Ra were expressionless bastards. He said something to Rude and Tseng, who both nodded and took a step away from him. Wait, away? Zack frowned, and then stared as Rufus reached into his coat and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun.

_"Oh, he wouldn't..." _ Zack thought even as he saw Rufus pull the trigger.

BOOM! Zack instinctively tensed as a powerful gunshot rent the air, and the mob fled, screaming, to metaphorically draw the curtains back on the the Turks and Rufus Shin-Ra. Rufus lowered his gun, his face blank but wicked amusement in his eyes.

_"You can tell he's twenty-one,"_ Zack thought wryly as Rufus stepped forward. Now that the mob was completely gone, the briefly captured Third-Class SOLDIERS were getting to their feet, scrambling to make themselves presentable: Zack winced when he saw more than a few of them were bleeding. The mob hadn't been kind at all... As the third-class SOLDIERS formed a rough hallway around Rufus and the Turks, Zack and the rest of the Seventh saluted crisply.

"Sir!" Zack barked in unison with his comrades.

"Carry on, gentlemen," Rufus said with a smile as he holstered his shotgun in his coat and strode forward, his step long and confident. At his side, his trained pantheround glided along like a shadow, the indigo color of its fur matching the hue of the Turks' suits. Breezing into the building, Rufus brushed by Zack, and Zack caught a whiff of his expensive cologne. It would have been priceless, Zack thought with a grin, if he had smelled of booze.

_"Wonder if he still has that drug problem..."_

Once the President had disappeared into the building, Zack and the rest of the Seventh fell back into their cocky slouches and began to banter—loudly—for the effect of the mob.

"So," one of them said. "How about that child? Hear she's illegitimate."

"Yeah," another of them said. "Love baby."

"Bow chicka wicka bow," a third SOLDIER cracked, making them all burst out laughing. Zack grinned. The Seventh was a tight-knit group of SOLDIERS who liked where they were so much that they refused promotion to First Class. Having been transferred to them from his post in Junon, Zack found the Seventh to be much like a family of loud, rude brothers. Being a single child, this experience was awesome.

"I bet her mother was a looker," one of them said.

"Probably, but who cares if she was? With Sephiroth's genes, the girl's gonna end up pretty no matter what."

Having worked with Sephiroth for nearly four years on numerous occasions—they were the only SOLDIER unit in the area—the Seventh felt free to make jokes at his expense, sometimes in his presence. When that happened, Sephiroth gave them weird looks but about half the time ended up laughing. Occasionally he lampooned himself, which was always fun, but sometimes a little disturbing. Zack vividly recalled the dark undertone in Sephiroth's voice when he'd said, "They pay me to stay alive." It made Zack wonder what else they paid him to do.

"Think her mom's Wutaiese?" One of them wondered aloud. "I don't the General's been getting his freak on much since he came back."

"Hooch, wouldn't that be something!" Another SOLDIER exclaimed. "A half-hellcat kid!"

"I wouldn't be surprised," someone else shrugged.

"Neither would I," Zack said. "The Wutaiese girls are supposed to be very pretty."

"And obedient."

"Obedient, my ass!" One of the older SOLDIERS exhorted. "Did I tell you about that one woman?"

"What woman?" Zack asked, blinking.

"Seishi! God, she was nuts. She was fucking every officer in the fort, turning 'em all against each other." The older man shuddered and said, "They split the fort into separate factions and started fighting each other. Heard from one of my buddies that it was freakin' hell."

"Wait, you weren't there?" Zack asked.

"I was there in the beginning," the soldier said. "Then I got transferred out. Thank god I did."

"So what happened to her?" Another soldier asked. "Seishi?"

The older man shrugged. "Beats me. Last I heard, some hotshot came in and took care of her. Then we never heard about her again."

"She must have been a great lay if the officers started fighting each other." One of the men commented.

"I wouldn't know," the older man said with another shrug. "She didn't lay me."

"Poor you," another SOLDIER said.

By this time, the mob had become back and resumed their yelling, so all group conversation was lost. Zack sighed and looked at his watch. They were supposed to stand around the building until 3:30. It was almost 11:00 now.

"This sucks butt," he muttered and turned his gaze back to the crowd.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

You know what else sucks butt? Going to work. Yes it does.

Sephiroth laughs around other people—SOLDIERS, mostly, because he feels the most at ease with them. If you remember in Nibelheim, he does laugh about his father; he's not exactly a cold bastard, he just has a massive stick up his butt sometimes. A lot. Nearly all the time. But around his fighting men, he uncoils just enough to make them feel more like friends (or acquaintances; he's not that close to them) than subordinates. Naturally, this is a two-way street, so the Seventh in particular treats him more like "one of the guys"—which we see has good points and bad points. After all, would _you_ want people laughing about your illegitimate child?

/\/\/\/\/\


	17. Chapter 16

Put Your Lights On

10.01.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Sixteen

/\/\/\/\/\

The door opened and Tseng glanced into Sephiroth's apartment, his dark gray eyes scanning the stark apartment for threats to Rufus, his charge. A flash of gray-green caught his eyes, and the bottom abruptly dropped out of Tseng's world as he found himself staring at a face that had haunted him for four years. His blood chilled and his brain, normally lightning-quick, stopped dead as he colloquially froze in place.

_"Oh SHIT! Why didn't it occur to me that Toriko would be the illegitimate child everyone's kicking a fuss over?"_

He heard his neck creaking as he turned stiffly to glance at Rude. Rude's eyes were hidden behind his ever-present dark glasses, but Tseng saw his jaw tighten and the tendons in his neck stand out as he too saw the girl they had kidnapped four years ago, the experimental subject they were looking for now.

_"Why couldn't there be another bastard child floating around?" _Tseng thought miserably. _"Why did it have to be her?"_

"Please come in," Sephiroth said politely, gesturing for them to enter the apartment. Tseng peripherally noticed he was wearing a white oxford shirt and dark pants, as he always did, as well as black leather gloves; Tseng had noticed them in the office, but apparently he didn't even take them off at home. Tseng wondered why, but only vaguely as Toriko's clouded jade eyes sharpened on his face, making him flinch. She recognized him! She had to. His face hadn't changed that much in four years and he was even wearing the same set of clothes... Tseng's stomach knotted as he imagined Toriko pointing at him and yelling, "That's him! That's the man who took me! That's the one who gave me to Hojo!" And then Sephiroth would turn, ever so slowly, so deliberately, and Tseng would die like a mouse before a snake.

"So this is Toriko," Rufus said, turning to look at her. He smiled charmingly, but the effort was largely wasted on her; she inclined her head politely in a motion eerily reminiscent of her father and clasped her hands, her face supremely blank.

"Hajime-mashite, fuku-shachou," she said, her voice clear and quiet. Tseng repressed the urge to shudder. Her voice had grown a little deeper, more mature, but it was still the same voice that flickered in his dreams.

_"There are specific circles of hell are reserved for liars."_

Why a childish utterance would frighten him so, Tseng had no idea, but just looking at Toriko now made a cool bead of sweat roll down from his hairline and trickle down the side of his face. She wasn't even looking at him, and yet...

_"Liar."_

Tseng winked at Rude to catch his attention and flicked his fingers in the secret language of the Turks.

—_see her?—_ Tseng asked, and when Rude imperceptibly nodded, said, _—know her?—_

_—Toriko—_ Rude spelled with deft flicks of his fingers.

—_fucked—_ Tseng confided to the one person who would know why.

—_not yet_— Rude said back. _—General doesn't know—_

—_bullshit—_

Rufus blinked and looked at Sephiroth. "Doesn't she speak Continental?"

"Regrettably, no." Sephiroth replied. "She was never taught."

"Then how do you two communicate?" Rufus asked, frowning.

"I speak fluent Wutaiese," Sephiroth replied.

This was not true. Sephiroth spoke flawless Wutaiese. He even made correct usage of formal address and idioms, which Tseng found very impressive since there were usually no cultural equivalents.

What Tseng also found impressive was his lying ability. While Sephiroth's face showed no sign of falsehood, Tseng could instantly tell by the alertness of Toriko's eyes that not only did she understand Wutaiese, but her father knew she did too.

_"So why are they hiding this fact from Rufus?"_

"We meet again," Toriko said in Wutaiese, looking at Tseng.

Tseng's stomach clenched, but he politely nodded at her. "Little miss."

"Polite, aren't we?" Toriko's expression and tone of voice didn't change, but Tseng flinched anyway. "You were polite then too, as I recall. But urbanity is one of a good liar's prerequisites."

"Sephiroth," Rufus said, frowning at Toriko. "Kindly direct your daughter not to speak in a language some of us don't understand."

"You heard him," Sephiroth said to Toriko in his impeccable Wutaiese.

"As you wish, Father." Toriko turned away from Tseng. "Shall I stay?"

"If you like," Sephiroth replied. Tseng couldn't help but notice that he used a polite form of address, speaking to Toriko as though she were an equal and not a child; Tseng found it appropriate considering Toriko's intelligence, but disturbing considering their relationship. "I doubt much of interest will be discussed." Sephiroth added.

"Can I play with the Vice President's big cat?" She asked, looking at Dark Nation.

Sephiroth looked at Rufus. "Toriko wants to know if she can play with your pantheround."

Rufus looked at Dark Nation, who sat attentively at his feet, and then at Toriko. "Sure," he said, shrugging. "As long as she doesn't yank on the tentacle, she should be fine."

"What's the tentacle?" Toriko asked Sephiroth.

"The tail on the cat's head," Sephiroth said.

Toriko looked at Dark Nation, who opened one eye in response. For a moment they studied each other with eerily similar gazes. Then Toriko walked over, knelt by Dark Nation, and scratched it behind the ears. Dark Nation sighed and closed its eyes.

"She's good with animals," Rufus commented, looking down at her.

"She means them no harm," Sephiroth said, looking down as well. "So they leave her alone."

"Why does she have the bandana over her head?" Rufus asked, looking back at Sephiroth.

"Toriko unfortunately lost all her hair on the trip from Wutai to Midgar," Sephiroth replied. "The circumstances of her journey were quite stressful."

_" 'Stressful' is too mild of a word to describe four years in Hojo's lab,"_ Tseng thought, _"but if anything made someone lose their hair, that'd be it."_

"Hmm." Rufus frowned. "Does she have a wig?"

"No, sir."

Rufus looked at Toriko, who was carefully scratching around the base of Dark Nation's second spine; again Dark Nation sighed and the tip of its tail twitched, seeming to indicate tolerance, if not pleasure. "Well..." Rufus said, looking back at Sephiroth. "It might not be a problem. She'll be a sympathetic figure. Did you rape her mother?"

Tseng stared and Rude made a noise that was equal parts shock and horror. Interestingly, neither Toriko nor Sephiroth reacted.

"What gives you that idea, Mr. Vice President?" Sephiroth asked evenly.

"Her features," Rufus said, jerking his head at Toriko. "And I can't really see you having a passionate affair with a hellcat."

Tseng had been in Midgar so long that he no longer bristled at the slur 'hellcat', but he thought he felt a ripple of annoyance come from Toriko. Sephiroth frowned slightly, but didn't say anything.

Rufus sat down on one of the kitchen stools, leaning back on the counter. "Tell me what you're going to tell the press. Did you rape her mother?'

"Of course not," Sephiroth said, catching on.

"Did you love her?"

"I did."

Tseng watched Toriko. Though she had moved from scratching Dark Nation's head to gently stroking its glossy blue fur, her keen eyes betrayed an understanding of what was going on around her. Tseng remembered her lack of reaction upon hearing the word 'rape' and wondered if she knew what it meant. Somehow, he had the feeling she did. It made his stomach squirm.

"Where's her mother now?" Rufus asked. Though he sat relaxed, there was nothing but concentration in his dark blue eyes.

"Dead," Sephiroth replied. "She sent Toriko to me in order to keep her away from her abusive relatives."

"Nice," Rufus said, nodding. "Put a bit more expression in your face and they'll actually believe it. I'd recommend paternal affection and muted anger."

Sephiroth nodded. Tseng had no doubt that he would change his performance accordingly during the press conference, with or without Rufus's coaching.

"What did she look like?" Rufus asked, looking at Toriko. "Her mother?"

"She was very beautiful," Sephiroth said, and Tseng looked at him in surprise; the General's eyes were veiled, and his voice was uncharacteristically soft. Tseng flashed back to four years ago—

"_He gave no thought to my welfare seven years ago, else he would not have crippled me."_

"Intelligent," Sephiroth went on. "Emotionally strong. A lesser woman would have broken under the things she went through."

"Why didn't you marry her?" Rufus asked curiously, losing the cool tone he'd been using earlier.

Sephiroth's smile was odd; it took Tseng to realize that it wasn't a smile at all, just a disguised grimace. "For one thing, she was already married. For another, it wouldn't have gone over well. You may be too young to remember, but ten years ago anti-Wutaiese sentiment was quite high."

"Oh, I remember," Rufus said, casting a look at Tseng. "The old head threw a ton of hissy fits because current policy wouldn't let _him_ join."

"It was much more serious than that," Sephiroth said, his expression darkening. "Lynchings. Burnings. Vigilante killings. And consider, these were well-established citizens whose only crime was looking like the enemy."

"Mistakes were made," Rufus agreed. "But we couldn't very well have rounded them all up and shipped them off somewhere."

Sephiroth shrugged. "Maybe we could and maybe we couldn't have. Like you said, mistakes were made." He did not look at Toriko.

She was lightly pulling Dark Nation's whiskers now, which made Tseng stare; visions of flying blood went through his head, but Dark Nation seemed oddly pleased. It was kneading the floor, and Tseng thought he saw Sephiroth wince as the pantheround's sharp claws dragged curlicues out of the varnished wood.

"Alright," Rufus said. "What made you decide to legitimize her?"

"I'm not ashamed of her," Sephiroth said, his green eyes half-closing. "I don't see any reason to keep her existence a secret."

"But what were you thinking, broadcasting it like that?"

Sephiroth didn't say anything for a moment. Picking up his coffee cup, he took a seat next to Rufus at the counter and said, "I haven't romantically involved myself with anyone since coming back to Midgar. Even during the war, it looked to the public as though I had no lovers. Last time I checked, the general consensus was that I'm gay or neutered." Rufus snorted and Sephiroth waited for him to choke down his laughter before continuing. "Naturally, this makes people wonder about my sexual orientation. I declared Toriko to be my daughter because I didn't want accusations of pedophilia in the air."

Rufus's eyebrows shot up. "That's it?"

Sephiroth wrapped his hands around his coffee cup. "Sir, now that there is nothing to fight, my reputation is the only thing for me to protect. My actions may seem unusual and disturbing, but I assure you that there's nothing you need to worry about."

Rufus's mouth quirked. "Your way of telling me to shut up, eh?"

Dark Nation lifted one long, bony paw and batted Toriko with it; Tseng opened his mouth, a cry starting in his throat, but the paw was velveted and it struck Toriko on the shoulder with a soft thump. Toriko looked at Dark Nation, and the pantheround slid its paw to the floor, looking oddly ashamed.

"Your daughter seems to be subverting my hound," Rufus noted. "Ever think of getting a pet, Sephiroth?"

"I'm better at killing things than caring for them," Sephiroth said. "Toriko excluded, of course."

Rufus snorted and looked back at him. "You might consider getting her one. If she doesn't speak Continental, she's going to have a hard time at school, and a pet can be a great comfort for a lonely child..."

Tseng knew what he meant by that. Seeing Rufus grow up from ten to twenty-one had been a lesson in child psychology: how to mess a kid up by giving him everything he wants and nothing he needs. Rufus's mother was some sort of old-money society bitch and Rufus had been something of an accessory for her; whenever it looked like she would have lost an invitation to a party or an event, she always mentioned her boy and the fact that he was going to be President Shin-Ra someday... Somehow, the idea of annoying the future President's mother made people cave in. Wives could be replaced, after all, but mothers were eternal.

So were fathers, when they were around. President Shin-Ra had had very little to do with his son, seeing as he had been organizing Midgar and the Company, and his only interest in the boy had been coldly professional: what contributions would he make to the Company? Of course President Shin-Ra gave him money; it was an investment in the future. And if he bought extras, like a gun and drugs—because there were drugs—it didn't matter so long as Rufus's mind was still sharp.

"_Basically, neither of his parents cared." _Tseng thought, looking at his diamond-hard charge. _"In that aspect, Toriko is better off. Her mother gave her up for a better life and her father's fighting to give it to her... I wonder if Rufus feels jealous."_

If he did, he didn't show it. He did, however, watch as Toriko picked up Dark Nation's paws and delicately pressed its toes, unsheathing claws that gleamed ivory white. Tseng held his breath as she tested each claw with a solemn intensity that seemed to spell "injury" in big letters.

"Be careful," he said to Toriko. "He hates having his paws touched."

"Are your reflexes fast enough to dodge Dark Nation?" Sephiroth asked his daughter.

"Maybe," she said. "But I wouldn't dodge. That's not normal for a girl."

"To dodge a blow?" Sephiroth asked, frowning.

Toriko picked up Dark Nation's other paw. "Women are supposed to receive whatever is given to them."

This was a typical Wutaiese view, albeit outmoded, but Tseng was surprised to see how much darker Sephiroth became. It wasn't visible in his expression, but rather as a manifestation of energy. Tseng tensed as the air around Sephiroth seemed to become tighter, sharper.

"What will she be wearing?" Rufus asked, looking at Sephiroth again. "I'd stay away from Wutaiese clothing—"

"Of course." Sephiroth said with a nod. "Something plain, nothing revealing. She will give the impression of being modest, retiring, and timid."

Rufus frowned thoughtfully. "Not bad," he admitted. "But make sure it looks like she's worthy of being your daughter."

"Worthy...?"

"She is illegitimate," Rufus said, motioning at Toriko. "And the circumstances under which she was conceived were less than perfect. People will want her to act like a brat so they can hate her."

"They're going to be disappointed," Sephiroth murmured. "Her manners are exquisite."

Rufus looked at Toriko and then at Sephiroth. "Hug her," he said.

Sephiroth blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Rufus said. "Give her a hug."

Sephiroth looked at Toriko, his expression unreadable. To Rufus, he said, "One of the things that made Toriko's hair fall out on the journey here was that she was violated on a number of occasions. Physical contact, even from me, gives her panic attacks."

Rufus's expression didn't change. "Sorry to hear that. But you have to make it look like you two really care about each other on camera, and that means some sort of physical contact. Since neither of you seem to be exactly touchy-feely, you need to practice."

At last impatient with Toriko's ministrations, Dark Nation pulled its paws away and crossed them, putting its head upon its feet. Toriko stood and brushed her hands off on her skirt.

"Wash your hands," Sephiroth said, looking at her.

"Yes, Father," she said, turning around. As she walked to the bathroom, she paused briefly by Sephiroth's chair and turned, kissing him lightly on the cheek. Only Tseng's long association with Sephiroth made him able to see the General's imperceptible flinch.

"_So he doesn't like physical contact either..."_

But he kissed her on the cheek too, a dry and fatherly brush of the lips, and Toriko went to the bathroom. Rufus looked at the two of them, frowning.

"Does she really not understand Continental?" Rufus asked.

"A few words," Sephiroth said. "But nothing comprehensive."

Rufus folded his arms across his chest. "That looked planned."

Sephiroth shrugged. "We're not used to it yet. Neither of us does much kissing."

"That's not what I meant..." Rufus's frown deepened. "Well, it'll work," he said grudgingly. "Just make it look like you actually want to be her father."

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Come on," Rufus said impatiently. "You've been a single guy for nearly thirty years now. All of a sudden, without even getting married to warn you, there's a kid in your life and you're going to have to make concessions for her. You'll have to pay attention to her at the very least. Parenting's not easy."

"_Odd that a man with dysfunctional parents would say this," _Tseng thought.

"It's just another type of war," Sephiroth replied.

Rufus looked at him, at a loss for words, and then sighed explosively, shaking his head. "Whatever," he said, sliding off the stool. "You think quick on your feet, at least. You should be fine at the conference. Tseng, Rude! We're going."

"Yes, sir," Tseng said, politely inclining his head. As he lifted it, he caught Sephiroth's bright green eyes fixed on him, burning through his dark brown ones to go right into his mind...

"_So it was you..."_

Tseng froze, consumed by terror as the knots of guilt that had been growing in him for four years suddenly exploded. He nearly fell on his knees to kowtow, to beg for forgiveness and his life, but Sephiroth blinked and the spell was broken. Tseng realized shakily that it had been his overactive imagination again.

"Tseng," Rufus said sharply. Tseng blinked and looked down at his charge, whose dark blue eyes were narrowed in annoyance. Though Rufus was only about five foot eight, he towered over Tseng in terms of authority and mental capacity right now. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, sir." Tseng said, lowering his eyes as he turned away from Sephiroth. "We'll be going now."

Rufus strode out of the apartment, Rude a step behind. Tseng was almost to the door when Sephiroth cleared his throat. As surely as though that sound had been a spell for ice, Tseng froze.

"We're going to have words," Sephiroth said in a voice barely above a whisper. "You and I...and Rude too."

Tseng licked his dry lips with a sandpapery tongue. "Yes, sir," he breathed.

"Dismissed."

Tseng stepped through the door and fled from the apartment. Though his soul recoiled in the face of the punishment that would no doubt be wreaked on him, a small part of him was glad...

"_It's finally over!"_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

The end of nervous Tseng. Ah well. It was fun while it lasted.

/\/\/\/\/\


	18. Chapter 17

Put Your Lights On

10.02.05

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Seventeen

"Wauuugh!"

Sephiroth sat in the living room, hunkered down in his favorite armchair, and tried his best to ignore the weird little cries and shrieks that were coming from his spare room. A scant thirty minutes after Rufus had left, a team of hairdressers, makeup specialists, and fashion consultants had arrived unexpectedly at his apartment, presumably to make him presentable. Not for the first time, Sephiroth was glad for his brilliant Mako eyes; a concentrated glare had been enough to scare them all off. Unfortunately, they turned their attention immediately to Toriko and before Sephiroth could react, had picked up, run her into the spare room, and proceeded to make her camera-worthy. Though initially bemused by their attention, Toriko was now beginning to become nervous.

_ "Father, they're putting something on my face!" _

_ "It's called makeup," _ he sent back. _ "Don't screw up your face. It annoys them and makes them worse." _

_ "How come you're not getting this done to you?" _ She asked him accusingly.

_ "Because they think I'll kill them if they touch me. Besides, I don't need it." _

Toriko grumbled for a moment, but a second later she exclaimed in surprise again. _ "They're sticking something on my head!" _

Sephiroth frowned. _ "What?" _

_ "It's someone else's hair!" _

Sephiroth bit his lip, inexplicably amused. _ "It's a wig," _He explained. _ "Don't worry about it. And don't pull it off; they'll stick another one on you." _

_ "It itches." _A pause. _ "And it's yellow." _

Yellow?

Sephiroth rose to his feet and walked to the spare room, peering in through the open door. Through a forest of eclectically dressed stylists, he saw Toriko sitting sulkily on the guest bed with an obnoxiously bright blonde wig stuck on her head. Sephiroth's brows shot up and he pressed his lips together to keep from grinning.

_ "This was not my idea," _Toriko informed him flatly.

_ "Of course not," _ he said with aplomb. Aloud, he looked to the stylist who was busily gluing the wig to Toriko's head and said, "Her hair is naturally black."

"That may be," the stylist sniffed, "but black hair would make her look Wutaiese."

"She is," Sephiroth said, and took a little vicious amusement in the way the stylists turned as one to gape at him. "Dress her appropriately, as befits a modest young lady."

"Bu—but..." One of them began to stammer, but Sephiroth cut him off with a look.

"Are you telling me you don't have anything suitable?"

"Well, it would give the wrong impression," another of them fluttered. "Wutai's still not 'in', you know? And current fashion—"

"Wutai is in her blood," Sephiroth said, nodding at Toriko. "So it's in. Dress her accordingly. And color her hair black."

The woman who had been sticking the wig to Toriko's head sighed and began applying some sort of clear gel to the base of Toriko's wig. Sephiroth leaned in the doorway and watched as the woman then carefully slid the wig off Toriko and wiped her head off with something that smelled strongly of alcohol.

"Why does she have razor burns on her head?" The woman asked, looking at Sephiroth and frowning.

"Razor burns?" Sephiroth repeated, puzzled.

"Little bumps," the woman explained. "The skin's raised. This girl's hair didn't fall out, it's been shaved off."

"What?" Sephiroth said as though he were surprised.

"And something else," the woman said. "She has this strange tattoo on the back of her hand..."

Sephiroth considered his choices. He could either kill or bribe all the stylists in order to prevent them from repeating what they'd seen—that Toriko was not what she was supposed to be—but killing would traumatize Toriko and blood was such a pain to wash out... And the problem with bribes was that they could always be bribed again, the next time to give up information. Threats were a plausible alternative, but threats left people alive, which left them able to talk...

_ "If only I could somehow erase their memories..." _

_ "Clothes," _Toriko said suddenly, projecting the word/impression with so much force that it made Sephiroth looked at her inquiringly; but the stylists suddenly seemed to remember that their makeover was not yet done and while the woman applied a long black wig to Toriko's head, the other people began sorting through a trousseau of garments they had brought with them. Sephiroth idly noted that they asked neither his opinion nor Toriko's as they pulled out various bits of clothing and folded them over their arms. Most of it fell in the same gaudily bright fashion that Sephiroth had seen in the thrift store, but there were a few pieces that looked promising. After a moment's commiseration and some quick looks at Toriko, the fashion specialists discarded all but the plainest of their selections.

"She's a bit thicker than most ten-year-olds," one of them mused. "Not in a bad way; it's like she's skipping though childhood skinniness and going straight on to adolescence."

Adolescence. Puberty. Eggs. Ugh. Sephiroth went back to his chair and waited out Toriko's makeover. He didn't have to wait long. Five minutes later, the team of stylists came out of the room and brought with them a disgruntled young girl. Sephiroth's brows shot up in surprise.

_ "You're going to be quite pretty when you get older," _he informed her wordlessly.

Toriko blinked at him and to their mutual surprise, reddened a little. _ "Well," _she replied, a little flustered. _ "It's only natural. You and Mother are both very pretty." _

Sephiroth decided then that Toriko would be the only person in the world that could call him 'pretty' and get away with it—narrowly. Rising to his feet, Sephiroth walked over to her and scrutinized her appearance.

He instinctively knew he black wig wasn't heavy as her natural hair, but it looked all right. Framing her face in a heavy-banged step cut, the wig made her look extremely Wutaiese, an effect furthered by the subtle makeup enhancing her slanted eyes. Her dress, however, was most definitely Continental, and she wore close-toed shoes and white stockings. Sephiroth glanced at her hands and noticed frills of white lace covering them up to her knuckles.

_ "I made them add the lace," _she thought at him.

_ "Made? How?" _Sephiroth asked, pacing a circle around her.

_ "I screamed at them," _she said—since Sephiroth hadn't physically heard any screaming, he assumed she had done it on the mental level—and explained, _ "If you yell when they're distracted, you can usually make them change their minds. If you scream, you can scatter their thoughts and make them forget things." _

_ "Interesting." _Sephiroth murmured. _ "In the future, however, you might want to try whispering. A steady murmur can sometimes accomplish what a shout cannot." _

_ "Yes, Father." _

"Is this alright?" One of the stylists asked, clearly bothered by Sephiroth's lack of response.

"More than alright," Sephiroth assured him. "She looks quite charming." In Wutaiese, he said to Toriko, "Is it comfortable?"

"It's pinching my waist," she said, looking down at the dress.

"They're supposed to do that."

She picked at her skirt and shrugged imperceptibly. "It's alright... But it's so colorful. I don't think I've ever worn anything but gray and white." She looked at him, and Sephiroth took in her feeling of speculation/annoyance as she noted his all-black ensemble; a high-collared business jacket and pleated black pants made him look like the romantic version of Death and the Devil rolled into one. The greatest of the many medals bestowed upon him were pinned over his heart, lending a minute splash of color to his bleak costume. "And you only wear black," Toriko said, looking at him.

"Don't be ridiculous. I have white shirts."

One of the stylists cleared his throat nervously and Sephiroth looked at him. He particularly disliked this type of man. Slim, twitchy, effeminate; just looking at him made Sephiroth want to kill him in order to spare the gene pool his contribution.

"It's almost three," the stylist lisped. "We should probably get going."

"You should," Sephiroth said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"But—"

"I have a few things I need to take care of," Sephiroth said, his eyes narrowing. "Privately."

_ "Leave," _Toriko said loudly. As one, the stylists turned and left. Sephiroth looked at his diminutive child in surprise as the last of them filtered through the door.

_ "You screamed at them again," _he noted. When Toriko nodded, he asked, _ "How do you get all of them at once?" _

Toriko shrugged, not saying anything, but Sephiroth got the image of a rock tossed into a still pond. That answered his question; unlike him, Toriko did not go into one mind at a time. Rather, she threw her influence over a wide area and hoped for results.

_ "Slapdash, but effective." _ He murmured. _ "I should try it sometime." _

"What are those things you need to take care of?" Toriko asked, tilting her head.

"You'll see," Sephiroth said, walking to his room. The heels of Toriko's shoes clicked on the floor as she followed behind him, stopping in the doorway as he went to his closet and opened it, brushing aside hung suits to reveal a concealed sword rack on the back wall. Without so much as glancing at the various blades, Sephiroth selected a katana in a matte black sheath and strapped it to his right hip.

"What's that for?" Toriko asked, leaning slightly to better look at the sword.

"Possible unpleasantness," Sephiroth replied. "There are still a lot of angry people outside."

"Are you going to kill them?" Toriko asked. There was no fear or revulsion in her voice, just clinical curiosity.

"No," Sephiroth said, kneeling on the floor to open his materia chest. "The sword is to remind them that I can, however." Rummaging through the box, he pulled out several of the magic orbs and slid them into the concealed armor he wore on his forearm. One of them, a purple Pre-Emptive, he kept out. Sephiroth shut the chest and the closet, and he turned to see Toriko looking at the materia with barely disguised interest.

_"I shouldn't be surprised," _he thought to himself with a smile. _"She's half-Wutaiese, and they love materia so much they fought a war over it."_

"This is for you," he said. Walking up to her, he held the marble-sized materia under her eyes until he saw her feline pupils slit intently to focus on it. Lifting it, Sephiroth watched as she followed the materia's track with her eyes, at last picking up her head when she could no longer look at it through her lashes. "Here," he said, and her eyes flicked to him. "This is called a Pre-Emptive materia; it gives you a one to two second insight into the future. Keep it on you."

"What about you?" She asked even as she reached up to take the materia.

"I'll be fine," he said. "I'm used to predicting and avoiding damage." Something else occurred to him and Sephiroth pulled off his right glove to remove the tarnished, ornate silver band he wore on his ring finger. "Put this on," he said, holding out the ring to Toriko.

"It won't fit," she warned him, and blinked in surprise when it did.

"It's a magical artifact," Sephiroth said. "The Touph Ring. It'll prevent you from being hurt."

Toriko looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes wide and full of misgiving. "But you—"

"Ordinary weapons wielded by ordinary people won't hurt me," Sephiroth assured her. "I'm not sure how strong you are, on the other hand, so you should take everything you can get."

Toriko dropped her eyes to the floor. "Thank you," she whispered.

Sephiroth reached out to pat her on the head, but he faltered; he had never been one for physical contact, and the unconscious way he'd nearly violated Toriko's made him uncomfortable. Dropping his hand, he put his glove back on and flexed his fingers, accustoming himself to the absence of the ring.

"Let's go," he said, stepping out of his room and closing the door behind him. Toriko nodded and followed him silently out of the apartment.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I'm semi-glad I wrote this chapter… I like making Sephiroth and Toriko talk, even if it's about something as silly as a wig. I hope they're not getting too familiar too fast; being in each other's heads helps smooth out some things, but it'll still take a while for them to be completely comfortable with each other. I am already shuddering at the pages and pages of stilted conversation I will have to write.

Thanks to J ( ) for catching the typo about the color of the Pre-Emptive materia (it's purple now, not yellow). And yes it is actually Touph Ring; I inspected it very closely during the Nibelheim flashback. +50 VIT & SPR; no wonder nothing could touch him! As for the spelling, it probably is a translation typo, but it was used in the game so I'll use it here.


	19. Chapter 18

Put Your Lights On

10.03.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Eighteen

The elevator pinged open and Toriko found herself looking up at two men with the same glowing eyes as her father. No, not exactly the same—their pupils were round, normal. Sharply saluting her father, they said, "Sir!" in the same curt voice.

"At ease, gentlemen," Sephiroth murmured. Toriko glanced at him in surprise. Though his voice was soft, there was something indefinably strong about it; the word Toriko picked up from the two soldiers—SOLDIERS—was 'command'. "How's the situation?"

"Ugly, sir." One of the SOLDIERS said. "No one's been real violent yet, but it could definitely go that way." He glanced down and noticed Toriko. "Well," he said in an entirely different tone of voice. "Aren't you just the cutest little thing I ever saw!"

"Eh...?" Toriko blinked, stunned. "Wha...?"

Sephiroth blithely took her hand in his; she was on his left side, out of the slash-range of the sword if he needed to draw it. Toriko was so surprised by his action that she looked at him with wide eyes, totally at a loss for words.

"She only speaks Wutaiese," Sephiroth explained.

"Oh, sorry sir" the SOLDIER said.

"No need to be sorry. Let's be on our way," Sephiroth said and looked through the glass doors of the lobby. By this time, the crowd outside had spotted them, and Toriko's hand tightened around his as she saw their animosity up close.

"Don't worry," Sephiroth said aloud, albeit in Wutaiese, for benefit of the soldiers. "They won't hurt you."

"They'll probably try," she whispered, looking down at the ground.

He squeezed her hand lightly, making her look up. "They'll try," he said, and his slight emphasis on the word 'try' made Toriko feel better.

He walked forward and Toriko stepped quickly to keep up with him; Sephiroth had a brisk stride and his legs were much longer than hers. Noticing her trotting, however, made him slow down and actually stroll towards the doors. Toriko's stomach twisted in fear as the mob's angry shouts became louder, and more than once she heard the phrase 'hellcat'. Dryly a part of her noted that they'd finally noticed she was Wutaiese.

The two SOLDIERS that had greeted them at the elevator fell in step behind them, and two more outside opened the doors for them. Toriko flinched as the shouts and screams became louder.

"Hellcat!"

"Go home!"

"I bet you're not even his real kid!"

Toriko nearly bolted back into the building. Four years in confinement had only increased a fear of crowds that had been instilled from her at a young age. Almost as though she were a young child again, she could hear the Wutaiese people screaming in her ears.

"_You should have been drowned at birth!"_

"_Bastard!"_

_"Demon's child!"_

"I don't think I can do this," Toriko whimpered, looking up at her father.

"You can," he said evenly, not looking at her. "It's easy. Watch." And he stepped forward, practically dragging her with him. Toriko almost dug in her heels, but got the sudden impression that any resistance would be a very, very bad idea. As stiffly as a puppet, Toriko walked at her father's side.

In the meantime, the SOLDIERS who had been guarding the building streamed out to step in front of Sephiroth, their swords flashing blue-white light as they waded into the crowd. For a moment, Toriko thought they were literally going to cut a path through the shouters—but instead, the SOLDIERS used the broad flats of their blades to shove people back, and if a few people got cut, it was really their own fault for not moving. Toriko was surprised to find a sort of callous joviality over the minds of the SOLDIERS, which sat ill at ease with the tales of glowing-eyed demons she had grown up with.

"All right, move it!" She heard them yelling. "Make way for the General! Don't make me have to use this thing. I will."

In short order, there was a sizeable corridor at least six feet wide. Sephiroth strode confidently down it, pulling his reluctant daughter along. Toriko kept her eyes fixed on the ground, shaking so badly she was surprised she still could walk. Sephiroth's hand was very warm, absently making her aware of just how cold she must be. That absentmindedness was shattered by the sudden premonition of a knife whizzing through the air, aimed for Sephiroth's chest. Without thinking, Toriko yanked on Sephiroth's hand—

Only to see one of the second-class SOLDIERS calmly pluck the knife out of the air and stick it in the back of his belt. Toriko sheepishly realized they were well protected. Meanwhile, Sephiroth's arm had not moved. He'd tensed it, so though Toriko had pulled with all her strength, he hadn't budged. The result was her stumbling, but Sephiroth caught her before she could trip.

"How sweet of you to worry about me," he said in Wutaiese. There was a gasp of horror from the mob before the shouting redoubled.

Toriko flushed and looked down at the ground again. "I—"

"Pick your head up," he said in the same brisk tone he always used when commenting on her appearance. Toriko automatically obeyed. "Don't act like you're ashamed. Don't give them the satisfaction of seeing you low."

"Yes, Father." Toriko took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as some of Sephiroth's calm flowed into her. She was still scared, but no longer out of her mind; briefly she felt Sephiroth's mental smile as they began to walk forward.

There was a company car waiting at the end of the SOLDIER-cleared corridor, and its open door was flanked by two people in dark suits that looked like Tseng's; Toriko noted they had zippers instead of buttons. The black-suited people—Turks—saluted Sephiroth silently. He nodded once at them and looked at Toriko.

"Get into the car." He said.

"Before you?" Toriko asked, surprised.

He nodded. "It's the way of things here," he explained. "Get in."

Toriko let go of his hand and climbed into the car, scooting over to the far side. Sephiroth slid in with a practiced grace, even lifting his sword out of the way as one of the Turks closed the door behind him. As the Turks moved around to get into the car, Toriko looked at her father.

"Is this safe?" She asked.

"It's got bulletproof glass," he replied, looking at her. Looking her up and down, he frowned. "You're pale."

"I am?"

"It's only natural; you were quite frightened." He gestured with one gloved hand. "Come here."

Toriko slid cautiously over and stiffened as Sephiroth put his arm around her waist. She was about to ask him why, but the Turks got into the car and she noticed one of them glance at her and Sephiroth in the small mirror fixed to the ceiling. Toriko exhaled and forced herself to relax.

_ "That's my girl." _ Sephiroth murmured in approval. _ "We can't let this up until we're at home." _

Toriko sighed again and closed her eyes. Impulsively she leaned against him, putting her head on his shoulder as she'd sometimes seen little girls do with their daddies. She felt him twitch in surprise and then relax, albeit reluctantly.

_ "Warn me before you do that," _he said in annoyance.

_ "Yes, Father." _

There were people in the street, but the SOLDIERS cleared them off with a few threatening swings of their massive swords and the car moved smoothly forward. Through the front window, Toriko could see the glass-and-steel monolith of the Shin-Ra Building looming in the distance and she felt her stomach twist. Somewhere in that thing was the lab she had escaped from only a day ago...

_ "What if Hojo tries to take me back?" _ Toriko asked Sephiroth.

_ "As long as you stay close to me, it shouldn't be a problem." _Sephiroth replied. _ "And if worse comes to worst..." _

_ "You'll kill him?" _Toriko asked a little hopefully.

Sephiroth looked at her, his green eyes seeming to bore right through her head as he simultaneously spoke in her mind. _ "Just because I am a professional soldier—and yes, a killer—doesn't mean I take lives lightly or for fun. Even if Hojo were not essential to my life, I wouldn't kill him. His death would unnecessarily complicate things." _

_ "Hojo is essential to your life?" _Toriko found this disturbing. Here Sephiroth was, arguably the most powerful man in the world, and he hadn't yet found a way to escape the horrors of his childhood. What kind of existence did that spell for her?

"_Always in fear, always looking over my shoulder..."_

_ "Unfortunately," _Sephiroth sighed. _ "He's too stupid—or perhaps too proud—to train a successor, so at the moment there is no one who can competently treat me for any number of injuries or illnesses I might incur." _

_ "Will it be like that for me too?" _Toriko asked, worried.

Sephiroth thought. _ "Maybe," _he said finally. _ "You were only four years in the lab, so maybe you haven't changed enough for a normal doctor to be unable to tend to you." _

_ "How long were you in the lab?" _Toriko asked hesitantly.

_ "Fourteen years," _Sephiroth said, and Toriko flinched. _ "And it can be argued that I've not yet escaped. Don't worry, though—I was born there. You were born free, in Wutai. I'll see it to it you stay that way." _

_ "No breeding," _Toriko said with a mental nod.

_ "No breeding," _Sephiroth agreed.

The ride to the Building was slow, but not as nerve-wracking as it could have been. Toriko found that leaning on Sephiroth wasn't all that bad. He wasn't a soft pillow by any means, but there was something comforting about physical contact, something she'd forgotten in her years with Hojo. Though her mother had never really hugged her, they had stayed close at night... Toriko listened to Sephiroth's heartbeat, idly wondering if it was as comforting to listen to as Seishi's had been.

Thump-thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump.

Toriko sat up, perturbed, and Sephiroth looked at her.

"What?" He asked in Wutaiese.

"Your heart has three beats," she said, pointing at his chest.

"Oh," Sephiroth said, looking down at his chest. "That. It's been doing that for a while."

"You're not bothered?" Toriko asked incredulously.

"It still works, doesn't it?" He paused, and said, "I try not to think about it too much. It scares me if I do. Suffice to say, it's one of the things that makes Hojo indispensable."

Toriko was inclined to agree. She put her hand on his chest, feeling the soft hum of his triple heartbeat. A moment passed before she realized she was touched him without permission, and she looked at him quickly, fearing he might be offended—but no. He was looking at her in mild surprise, nothing more. Wordlessly he lifted his arm and Toriko went back to leaning against his side.

"Wake up."

Toriko lifted her head, blinking, and flushed as she realized she had actually dozed off against him. Sephiroth looked down at her, amused. "You slept all night and you're still tired?" He asked in Wutaiese.

"A little," she said. It wasn't like he was comforting or anything...

The door opened and Sephiroth slid out of the car, his hand grasping Toriko's again. She scooted out after him, holding his hand, and immediately flinched as the white-hot flares stabbed into her eyes.

"Father!" She cried, covering her eyes with her free hand.

"Ignore it," he said, pulling her hand from her eyes; his bone-crushing hands were oddly gentle. His voice cut through the babble of shouting voices around them, which were thankfully not angry—they were aggressive, though. "There are worse pains out there."

But why endure any pain unnecessarily? Toriko tried not to flinch every time a flare went off in her eyes, leaving her vision full of red spots. Sephiroth seemed to know where he was going; Toriko followed blindly in his wake, dimly aware of the Turks walking behind them. Before her and her father, she sensed two more black suits. One of them was the tall bald one named Rude. Toriko probed his mind and found him unperturbed by her presence.

"_Interesting. Tseng feels guilty for concealing me from Father for so long, but this one doesn't see it as a problem at all... Just part of the job."_

To her surprise, he turned back and glanced at her under his dark glasses. His brown eyes, keen and intelligent, startled her beyond reason.

_"Does he know what I'm doing...?"_

Rude turned back, leaving her puzzled and a little confused.

_ "Sometimes you find them," _Sephiroth murmured. _ "People who are unusually sensitive. They're nowhere as strong as we are, however. They're aware of us, but can't offer any resistance." _

That was comforting. Toriko sensed stairs and picked her feet up just in time to scale a short series of steps. Her vision was still all spots, but dimly she caught the impression of great glass doors and a gigantic room, as well as some cold, polished floor her heels clicked against. Then Toriko heard a 'ping', and she was pulled into an elevator.

"The pressroom is on the thirtieth floor," Sephiroth told her. "When we get there, stay close to me unless I say otherwise. Before we go in, we have to talk briefly with President Shin-Ra and the other executives."

Toriko caught a fleeting impression from his mind and stiffened. "Hojo will be there."

"Yes," Sephiroth said seriously. "He'll know who you are on sight, but he probably won't try anything with the other executives around. As far as I know, they don't know about you as you pertain to Hojo."

"So he won't want to disclose secrets, is that it?" Toriko asked, tilting her head.

"Precisely," Sephiroth said with a nod. "And another thing; don't speak even if you're spoken to."

"Isn't that rude?"

"Yes, but it's for the same the reason we're pretending you only understand Wutaiese."

"Are you going to tell that lie about being in love with Mother again?" Toriko asked curiously.

"It works," Sephiroth replied.

"What if Mother hears?"

"You know her better than I do," Sephiroth said, looking at her. "What do you think she'll do?"

Toriko blinked in surprise. Opening her mouth, she was about to say that she didn't know when she realized that she did. Almost as certainly as though Seishi were whispering in her ear, Toriko said, "She won't come forward as my mother. She sent me away for a better life with you and she won't jeopardize it by being alive and offering people a different version of what happened." Toriko blinked again, suddenly aware of her mother's peculiar sacrifice, and again felt ashamed of her behavior toward her mother. Four years ago, she hadn't been old enough to understand Seishi as well as she should have.

_"Mother's reasons for doing things and raising me were complex—I was foolish to focus on only one aspect of her, the one that didn't love me as I wanted, and ignore the rest of her."_

The elevator slowed and 'pinged', signaling it had come to the floor. Toriko tensed in anticipation of more lights, more shouts, but it was strangely quiet. Sephiroth walked forward, pulling her with him, and the Turks fanned out around them.

"This way, sir," Rude said to Sephiroth, opening a dark wooden door. Inside was a richly appointed room with green carpet and green-gold wallpaper, as well as several people who focused on Toriko instantly. Toriko tensed, but Sephiroth blithely pulled her in.

"You're ten minutes late," President Shin-Ra (for only he would speak to her father so disrespectfully) growled. "You have to meet the press in five."

"Traffic was disagreeable," Sephiroth said by way of excuse.

"Is that her?" Asked a woman in a bright red dress. Toriko rather thought she'd forgotten to fasten the front of it and for a moment, looked for buttons. When she realized that there weren't any, she also realized that the woman was doing exactly what Seishi had done in her youth, flaunting her body in order to get ahead. Though Toriko knew nothing about the scarlet woman, she felt oddly close to her.

_ "That is _not _your mother," _Sephiroth said severely.

_ "I'm only noting the similarities." _ Toriko said mildly.

There was a fat, graying man in a brown suit Toriko instinctively knew was tasteless, who looked at her and smiled with a face that was vicious and stupid. Toriko dismissed him immediately; men like that were easy to distract and usually of small consequence. She of course recognized Reeve, who smiled briefly at her, and Rufus, who pretended he didn't know her.

And then there was Hojo. Toriko shoved down the chill of fear that went through her and met his eyes insolently, as she had all four years of her captivity. Hojo frowned at her for a split second before realizing who she was.

"Wh...ua…aaahh..." He choked in shock, strangling the words that would have damned his project.

"Something in your throat?" Sephiroth asked coldly, looking at him.

"No," Hojo said through gritted teeth.

Toriko glanced at President Shin-Ra, whose eyes had sharpened on her upon Hojo's reaction. So he knew who she was too... But like Hojo, he wouldn't say anything about her project even though he was the superior of everyone in the room. Toriko thought the idea of forced incest would go over poorly with the rest of the executives.

President Shin-Ra looked at her keenly, his dark blue eyes as hard as diamonds. "So this is the girl..." He said quietly. "The one who will undo everything you've worked for."

"One girl will hardly topple a nation," Sephiroth said in Toriko's defense. "But I would do it again."

"Grown attached to her, have you?" President Shin-Ra said, his eyes flicking to Sephiroth. He spoke the word 'attached' with profound distaste.

"Quite," Sephiroth said.

"She certainly is cute," the scarlet woman said. "Does she have dimples?"

"No," Sephiroth said.

"Too bad. The camera loves dimples," The woman said, shrugging. Toriko was fascinated by her breasts. They were the biggest she had ever seen, and between their size and the low cut of her dress, Toriko wondered how they didn't fall out when she moved her shoulders.

_ "Double-sided tape," _Sephiroth murmured to her. _ "No woman's breasts are that firm." _

_ "How very true," _ Toriko agreed, and wondered if she would ever have grapefruits like the scarlet woman's studding her chest. They would be formidable weapons, like a battering ram against any man's sensibilities. Sephiroth snorted mentally, his humor rippling across her mind.

"I've heard from Rufus that she only speaks Wutaiese," President Shin-Ra said, again with distaste. Toriko noticed he didn't look at her when he talked.

"That's correct," Sephiroth said.

"Does she know any Continental?" President Shin-Ra asked.

Sephiroth looked at Toriko, who was ready with the prearranged phrases they'd agreed on. "Toriko," he said. "You heard the fat man."

Toriko stifled a laugh. How nice it was to have more than one language to talk in! Letting go of Sephiroth's hand, she bowed with her hands on her thighs and said in carefully accented Continental, she said, "Preased to meet you."

President Shin-Ra scoffed and looked back at Sephiroth. "Anything else?"

"She can introduce herself and count to ten," Sephiroth said as Toriko straightened. "As well as a few other things. I didn't see a reason to teach her Continental when I already understand what she's saying."

President Shin-Ra scowled and looked at Toriko finally. "She'll need to be put into school."

"I thought tutors—"

"No," President Shin-Ra said, shaking his head. "Definitely a school. You've made a public spectacle of her, Sephiroth, and people will expect to see her."

_ "I would have thought he would have tried to keep me close," _Toriko murmured to her father, looking up at her father. _ "So he could steal me at any given opportunity." _

_ "Yes..." _Sephiroth murmured, frowning. _ "I wonder what he's thinking?" _

_ "You can't tell?" _ Toriko asked in surprise.

_ "Not while I'm concentrating on something else. I get distracted." _

Toriko was amazed. Here was something she could do that her father, her near omniscient father, couldn't!

_ "Don't get too carried away," _Sephiroth grunted. _ "What is he thinking?" _

Toriko poked President Shin-Ra's mind. _ "He wants to use me as the new Shin-Ra poster child; reconciling and integrating with Wutai." _

_ "What about your project?" _ Sephiroth pressed.

Toriko frowned. _ "Something about a..." _ Confused, she forwarded the image/phrase she had picked up in President Shin-Ra's mind to her father, who drew a hissing mental breath.

_ "A gynecological exam," _he growled softly. _ "He's doing the same thing to you as he did with me." _

Some other meaning flitted across his mind, but Toriko did not pursue it; she had the feeling it would disagree with her. _ "And what is that?" _

_ "He's making you profitable in a different way, for the time being... But when you start producing eggs, he will have them taken from you and used anyway." _ There was a pause. _ "Now that I think about it, I doubt he would have made us physically copulate. He would have contrived to get my sperm and your egg in a tube somewhere, and then have it planted in you or a surrogate." _

_ "And that would work?" _Toriko asked, amazed.

_ "It would." _

_ "So what do we do, then?" _Toriko asked, starting to feel panicked.

_ "Make ourselves sterile." _

_ "How?" _

_ "I'll figure something out." _

All this was done in a near instantaneous series of impressions and emotions, the words forming of their own volition in her head. Scarcely half a second had passed outside their minds, and Sephiroth had, of course, been keeping track. Toriko could appreciate how things became distracting for him as he said, "Begging your pardon, sir, but she can't attend school when she doesn't know how to speak the language."

"Then you'll teach her, won't you?" President Shin-Ra said, his eyes narrowing.

Sephiroth's expression tightened imperceptibly. "Of course, sir."

Reeve cleared his throat softly and President Shin-Ra looked irritably at his watch. "Showtime," he said disgustedly. To Sephiroth he said, "Come in when I'm done speaking, and don't screw this up."

With a final glare at Toriko, President Shin-Ra exited the green room through a door in the side, and Toriko flinched as she saw white flares and heard a babble of voices behind it. Rufus went out right, followed by Reeve, the fat man, the scarlet woman, and finally Hojo, who paused for a moment and looked at her and her father.

"I know what you did," he said in Wutaiese, and startled, Toriko clutched Sephiroth's hand. He squeezed back, radiating hostility toward the white-clad man who was threatening them. "And I know what you're doing."

"How interesting, then, that you can't do a thing to stop me," Sephiroth replied, a smile tipping the corner of his lips.

Hojo sniffed. "You overestimate yourself, as always." Then he turned to Toriko and said, "Don't think I'm done with you."

Toriko stiffened. She had dreamed of this day, when she would stand before Hojo and tell him exactly what she thought of him, with no fear of retaliation to make her cringe. She opened her mouth to say something—but the words, the preplanned speech and all its insults, turned to ashes in her mouth as she saw Hojo's slate gray eyes, narrowed into evil slits, his deceptively pristine labcoat metaphorically covered in blood. Her cheeks burned with humiliation remembered and present, and Toriko looked at the ground, shaking too much to say anything.

"Back off, Hojo," Sephiroth said quietly, and though his voice was soft, Toriko heard unprecedented hostility. "Go play with your mice. Leave the dragons alone."

Hojo's grin was pure malice and he left the room with his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. Toriko clenched her hands into fists.

"I'm sorry," she said miserably, closing her eyes.

"It's alright," Sephiroth said, looking at her. "You're young and vulnerable still. Fearlessness will come in time."

She nodded, still ashamed. Beyond the door, Toriko could hear President Shin-Ra rumbling a strange speech, some crock about 'Shin-Ra's dear child returned to the fold'—was he talking about her? Toriko brushed his mind and found that he only had a few more sentences left.

"Father," she said even as Sephiroth began to move forward, his face taking on a strange, sad expression.

"Let's go," he said, his voice still as brusque as ever as he held his hand out to her. Toriko slipped her fingers into his palm; they seemed small and delicate against his leatherclad hand, infinitely fragile compared to his. But his fingers curled gently around her own, and then, shelving their emotions behind identical masks of stoicism, Toriko and her father walked out to face their enemies.

Author's note:

/\/\/\/\/\

Hehehe. Scarlet's boobs. I wouldn't put plastic surgery beyond her (since her body is an investment in this setting) but I think they're actually natural... Don't know why. Just an impression, I suppose. Slapping her on the Sister Ray was stupid, but so fun.

And there is a reason for the knife. As Ardwynna Morrigu said, the crowd is out of its firetrucking mind, but who said it was completely composed of angry fans?

/\

Return readers may notice I excised a scene, in which Sephiroth learns that Toriko knows and is comfortable with double entendres. I took it out because I didn't really see a reason for that admittedly hilarious scene, but it might reappear later. Growing up in a whorehouse means that Toriko has some interesting outlooks and expressions.

/\/\/\/\/\


	20. Chapter 19

Put Your Lights On

10.04.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Nineteen

/\/\/\/\/\

Sephiroth walked in, and in the split-second before he was blinded by the flash of camera bulbs and spotlights, he saw the executives standing against the wall at his right, a sea of reporters to his left, and a gap next to President Shin-Ra where he and Toriko were supposed to stand. Then the room exploded into painful, blasting light. Damn hypersensitive eyes.

Luckily, this was not the first time Sephiroth had gone to a press conference, and while the lights were painful and annoying, they were survivable. Walking up to the podium, he directed Toriko to the place where she was supposed to stand and he felt her stiffen as President Shin-Ra put his hands on her shoulders.

_"Why that son-of-a—" _Sephiroth flared, but checked himself. "_No. I'll get him later. He won't try anything in public, and especially not with my daughter. He likes little boys..."_

He scanned the general mood of the reporters gathered in the pressroom, flicking rapidly from mind to mind to get an impression. These were important representatives of the major world networks and were curious, of course, but considerably more well behaved than the scrabbling hounds outside. They neither screamed at him nor flashed bulbs in his face beyond his entrance. When he was sure he had their undivided attention, Sephiroth began to speak.

"I imagine you have any number of questions for me," he said mildly. "I'll do my best to answer them. But forgive me if I don't disclose everything; the death of someone I loved still weighs heavy on my soul."

The mood in the room changed subtly, becoming even more openly curious. Sephiroth felt Toriko stir behind him, but remain silent.

"Eleven years ago," he said, "I went to fight a war. While over there, I fell in love." Lowering his eyes and voice for effect, he continued, "I met a Wutaiese woman. She was a prisoner-of-war, but she never gave that impression. She was brave and composed. A noblewoman in every sense of the word."

Sephiroth paused, as though reminiscing, and he felt Toriko's mental giggle at his acting. He ignored it and went on, lifting his eyes from the podium. "I couldn't marry her, of course. Anti-Wutaiese sentiment was quite strong and besides, I didn;t want to leave her a widow in a strange land if I died. We parted company after two months and I never saw her again. Correspondence was impossible, considering our situations, but I thought about her every day."

_ "Will people really believe that?" _Toriko burst out, unable to contain herself.

_ "Yes." _Sephiroth said with a mental smile. "Yesterday," he said aloud, "Toriko arrived. She's my daughter. There's no question about it, not for me. I know her because of the ring she wears."

_ "Sneaky," _she thought appreciatively at him.

_ "Thank you," _he said, pleased. _ "Tell me honestly: is this speech ridiculous?" _

She shrugged mentally. _ "Of course, but the stupid people are loving it." _

_ "Are they really?" _ Sephiroth asked, surprised. Then again, Toriko could afford to look at minds; she wasn't concentrating on anything.

_ "The thought 'poor Sephiroth' is going through their heads quite a lot," _she supplied.

_ "Excellent." _Sephiroth had a thought._ "Step forward." _

Toriko pulled herself from President Shin-Ra's grasp and walked demurely forward, her eyes downcast in an expression of ladylike gentility she had no doubt learned at Seishi's knee. Sephiroth caught more than a few muffled 'aww's' in the audience, and not all of them from the women.

"I gave a ring to my beloved in remembrance of me," Sephiroth said, catching Toriko's hand. "And she gave me a daughter in remembrance of what we had. Though it may tarnish my reputation beyond repair, I will not hide Toriko. I will not give her up. She is my daughter and I love her."

_ "Do you really?" _She asked him suspiciously, not looking up at him.

_ "As much as you love me," _he responded.

A pause. _"I suppose that's fair." _

"Now," he said, facing everyone and still holding Toriko's hand, "Are there any questions?"

There was something to be said about coming forward. Sephiroth waited five seconds, long enough for it to become obvious that no one was going to ask anything, before concluding his little lie-fest.

"Thank you," he said softly, and walked offstage, taking Toriko with him. Behind him, he heard President Shin-Ra step forward and say something that set cameras flashing. Opening the door to the green room, Sephiroth let Toriko go in first before following and shutting the door behind him.

"Now the real fight begins," he said to her in Wutaiese. "One that will last all our lives. Are you ready?"

"As much as I'll ever be," she replied in a voice that was as steady as she could make it.

Sephiroth nodded. "Good," he said. "Now let's go home."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Sephiroth was lying so much during this chapter. His falsehoods were fun.

Urk. Now where to go from here? What is the next crisis I should make these two face...?

Maybe I'll put off their crises for my own. School's a bitch, don't ya know.

/\/\/\/\/\


	21. Chapter 20

Put Your Lights On

10.04.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Twenty

/\/\/\/\/\

"What are we going to do?" Toriko asked Sephiroth as soon as they were back home. Outside, the mob had disappeared, having been swayed from their rage by Sephiroth's trumped-up story.

"Well," Sephiroth said, unbuttoning his jacket and tossing it onto the couch. "I expect we'll take about two months for you to 'learn' Continental—and then you'll go to school." He paused. "Do you want to go to school?"

"No," Toriko said emphatically. She had no desire to be around normal children whatsoever; they were cruel. Sephiroth nodded his agreement.

"Good," he said. "We'll make it three months, then; by that time, all the schools will have been in session too long to accept untried students."

Toriko nodded. "But what will I do if I'm not in school?"

"Improve your Continental," he said with a small smile. "But no; we'll figure out something." He paused for a moment and looked at her, his green eyes speculative. "How would you like to learn how to fight?"

"What, me?" Toriko exclaimed.

"Yes, you," Sephiroth said, his eyes sharpening. "You're my daughter, after all, and people are going to expect things of you."

True… "What kind of weapons?" Toriko asked, the image of the Masamune flashing through her mind. She tried not to shudder; every inch of that seven-foot blade was scary, and she didn't want a weapon like that.

_"After all, I don't really want to learn how to fight... Just being able to defend myself would be enough."_

"Considering your Wutaiese heritage," Sephiroth said, "I don't think you're going to get very tall; five foot six or seven at the most. Most swordsmen are large like me, so you're going to need a weapon with reach."

"Like a spear?" Toriko asked, gathering the impression from his mind.

"Probably," he agreed. Holding a hand up, he said, "Hit me."

Toriko gaped. "Wha... No!"

"On my hand," he said patiently.

"I couldn't strike you!" Toriko protested. "You're my father!" _"And you'd probably pulverize me, besides..."_ She added silently in her head.

"This is to test your strength," he said. "Now make a fist and hit me."

Toriko reluctantly approached, balling one of her hands into a fist. Sephiroth glanced at it.

"Tighter," he said. "I don't see any tension in your hand." Toriko complied. "Good. Now put your weight behind it and hit me like you mean it."

Toriko lifted her fist and wondered where she could find the aggressive drive to do what he was asking her. Gingerly she threw her fist forward and winced as her knuckles smacked against his palm. She shrank as Sephiroth looked down at her.

"Do I have to attack you?" He asked in a dreadfully calm voice.

Toriko threw another punch, harder this time. Sephiroth lifted his other hand in a silent but eloquent gesture. Panicking, Toriko leaned back and hurled her weight forward, slamming her fist into the palm of his hand. For a moment, she was terrified she had hurt him; once, in a rare fit of temper, she had hit a counter in Hojo's lab and stared in horror as the ceramic counter had fractured, splintering into a million lines. She had the impression of the same thing happening to Sephiroth's hand just before a wave of pain suddenly exploded from her jammed wrist.

"Ow!" She squeaked, leaping back and clutching her injured hand. Far from being injured, Sephiroth had injured her simply by being unyielding.

"Not bad," he said, nodding thoughtfully and letting his hands drop to his sides. "You're at the level of a second-class SOLDIER right now."

Toriko nodded, her lips pressed together as she stifled her whimper of pain. It was second nature, to be silent in times of suffering. Sephiroth glanced at her wrist.

"It'll be fine in a moment," he said, and Toriko looked at him in surprise.

"You heal quickly too?" She asked even as the pain receded from her joint.

"Very." He said. "Sometimes it's inconvenient. Once I didn't immediately tend to a gunshot wound and later the flesh closed over the bullet. I had to reopen it and dig it out."

Toriko winced. "Did you really have to?"

"The bullet was lodged in my bone," Sephiroth replied. "It was rather uncomfortable."

Toriko couldn't imagine how that must have felt. Sephiroth tilted his head and studied her for a moment.

"You might be able to handle twin swords," he said. "Normal women don't have the upper-body strength to use them, but you're stronger than even most men—and you'll only get stronger with time. It's necessary that you harness that."

"Why?" Toriko asked, trying not to sound like she was whining. "I don't plan on fighting."

"The fight will come to you," Sephiroth said so seriously that Toriko looked up at him, alarmed. "When it does, you must be prepared."

Toriko swallowed, an inexplicable chill brushing over her. "Yes, Father. When will we start?"

"Immediately," he said. "Let's see how flexible you are."

Hojo had been very keen on keeping her physically fit, so Toriko could perform any number of acrobatic tricks and contortions. Sephiroth nodded as he gleaned this from her mind.

"Not bad," he said. "And your endurance?"

Hojo had seen to that too. Thanks to endless hours on a treadmill, Toriko was capable of running all day, measuring about ten miles an hour.

Sephiroth nodded. "Again, not bad. Did he try you out with materia?"

"Only once," Toriko said. "He wanted to see if I could call Fire, and I ignited his hair."

Sephiroth's brows shot up. "He knows better than not to set up a containment field when giving a subject materia."

"He did until I convinced him I couldn't do it," she replied, smiling at the memory. "He stepped in to take it from me, and I blew his horsetail off."

"You should have gotten the scalp," Sephiroth said, but smiled anyway.

"I'll do better next time," she said, smiling back.

Sephiroth leaned on the counter, idly picking at the buttons of his shirt. "You're coming with me to work tomorrow," he said. "It's the day I make the inspection of the Midgar Garrison, and you'll see the armed forces in action. Observe them carefully; I want you to be able to mimic everything you see."

"Everything?" Toriko exclaimed.

"As much as you can," he said, looking at her. "Observational learning is quite a powerful tool. It's best if you start training yourself to use it."

He was certainly asking a lot of her... Toriko swallowed and bowed. "As you wish, Father."

"Let's eat," Sephiroth said. "Would you like to learn how to cook?"

Toriko perked up. Now that was a skill more useful than fighting. "Yes," she said, trying not to sound too eager.

Sephiroth smiled, seeing through her subterfuge. "Change into some other clothes," he said. "You could get messy."

Toriko ran into the spare room, which was going to become hers in short order; Sephiroth hadn't said so, but it was his general feeling. Toriko paused for a moment in the room, suddenly aware of a strange feeling that had come over her. It wasn't fear or sadness or even anger; it was much too calm for that. She couldn't even say she was happy, though she definitely felt good. What was this odd feeling?

_ "I think it's called 'pleased," _Sephiroth murmured quietly.

Pleased. Yes, that sounded right. Toriko smiled and changed her clothes.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

He really would have hit her if she hadn't punched. Sephiroth doesn't think it's wrong to hit people, let alone children in particular. Pain was used on him to make him cooperate, so Sephiroth thinks it's the normal thing to do. Toriko thinks it is as well, considering her circumstances and the place of women in traditional Wutaiese culture. Luckily for both of them, he didn't have to. Isn't fear a wonderful thing?

/\/\/\/\/\


	22. Chapter 21

Put Your Lights On

10.05.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Twenty-One

/\/\/\/\/\

"Sir!" Commander Jameson shot up from his desk in alarm as the General strode unexpectedly into his office. "What, uh..."

"Surprise inspection," Sephiroth replied. "I trust passing it will be no problem for the garrison?"

"N-not at all, sir," Jameson said. His stammering wasn't due to nervousness; the Midgar Garrison was the best maintained on the Eastern Continent by virtue of having nothing but the best SOLDIERS there, and Jameson could think of no reason why it would fail the General's inspection. No, Jameson was stammering out of shock, for right behind Sephiroth trailed his daughter, a pale gray shadow who stood silently but attentively at her father's side. "Ah..."

"Toriko will be accompanying us on the inspection," Sephiroth said, speaking of her as briskly and professionally as though she were another soldier. Jameson found the lack of paternal affection in his voice somewhat disturbing. "Do you have any problems with that?"

"No, sir," Jameson said automatically, though his mind reeled with a dozen objections. The Midgar Garrison was no place for a girl; there were sharp objects and swearing men and rampant testosterone in the air. Even a full-grown woman would feel uncomfortable in the Garrison—admittedly for different reasons, but still. The Garrison was a man's place! And Toriko was unmistakably feminine in a pearl gray dress hemmed with lace and shiny black buckle shoes.

"Let's go, then," Sephiroth said, and walked out of the office, his leather coat snapping. For some reason, the General always made his inspections in his battle uniform, as though the sight of him decked in leather and steel would inspire the SOLDIERS to greatness even in peacetime. Privately Jameson thought he was missing the old days, like many of the veterans did. It was hard for a soldier in peacetime; just what exactly did you do with yourself?

Sephiroth glanced over his shoulder, his Mako eyes landing on his daughter. "Ikou, Toriko," he said.

"Hai, chichiue," Toriko said. Jameson's skin crawled. Seeing Toriko and hearing spoken Wutaiese unlocked a slew of memories he had tried his very best to forget; friends blown apart by magic, waves of glittering swords... And though he knew it was irrational, Jameson found himself hating Toriko.

_"Damn you and all your kind!"_

What had the General seen in these people? What had he seen in her mother, if he really had fallen in love with her? Jameson privately doubted that he had, but what other reason would he have, then, to keep Toriko? Didn't she have relatives she could hide with? Jameson couldn't figure it out. He walked out of his office, shutting the door behind him, and stepped up to stride at Sephiroth's right. Toriko walked a pace behind the two men and on Sephiroth's left.

"Practice yard first," Sephiroth said, making a sudden turn at the next hall. Jameson, used to these abrupt changes in direction, didn't miss a step, and he glanced back at Toriko to see if she was faltering. She wasn't. Despite having shorter legs and impractical shoes, she walked just as quickly and briskly as her father did, and with the same cool professionalism on her face. Jameson felt his dislike of her increase, though he wasn't particularly sure why.

The practice yard was a quarter mile by quarter mile square of sandy earth that was used for everything from running laps to sparring sessions between SOLDIERS; at the moment, it was something of the latter, seeing as it was Mock War Wednesday, the most looked-forward-to event of the week. Third- and Second-Class SOLDIERS fought each other with dull iron replicas of their weapons and hurled "soft" magic at each other, an effect achieved by laying a thin Silence spell in the air; as a result, there were sparks but little to no damage. First-Class SOLDIERS acted as the commanders of the opposing armies.

"Let's switch it up," Sephiroth said, his eyes flicking over the battlefield. He, Jameson, and Toriko stood on a balcony that ran all the way around the practice yard, some twenty feet above the action. "After this melee, tell the thirds to switch with the firsts."

"Are you sure that's wise, sir?" Jameson asked, looking at him. "The First-Class SOLDIERS have a great deal more strength than the seconds or thirds—the battle would be unfair if one side were to win simply by having more of them."

"War is not fair," Sephiroth said, his voice soft as he watched the mock battles. "This wouldn't be an efficient exercise if battle-like conditions were not simulated. Perhaps we should take them out of the garrison and set them loose in the wilds. A Mock War Week..."

"Sir, Midgar can't really afford a security breach like that." Jameson said cautiously, aware that doubting the General's judgment could get him in trouble. An involuntary shiver went through the garrison commander as Sephiroth's green eyes flicked to look at him. "What with AVALANCHE becoming more active and all..."

"True," Sephiroth said, looking back at the battle. "It's a pity these skills won't be of much use when it comes to tracking them down."

"Sir?" Jameson exclaimed, not sure he'd heard the General correctly.

"SOLDIERS are not trained in guerilla warfare," Sephiroth said, looking still at the battle. "Basically, we point them in the direction of where we want things dead. Finding AVALANCHE and disposing of them quickly will be the Turks' job."

"So what are the SOLDIERS supposed to do?" Jameson asked, trying not to feel resentful.

Sephiroth sighed quietly. "Kill monsters. Look impressive. Try not to die. Enlistment's fallen off since the war, you know. It's almost zero now. People were more inclined to undergo a life-changing alteration when there was a threat to protect their families against."

That was true. Jameson blinked his blue-green Mako eyes and looked out at the battlefield. Distinguished from each other by wearing different colored armbands, three armies fought for control of the field. The fights were savage, despite the use of blunted weapons, and Jameson spotted more than a few SOLDIERS with broken bones. There was blood on the field too, because dull weapons could still pierce if there was enough force behind them. That was one of the problems with the SOLDIER program: if you could live through the six-week transformation process, you came out a changed man. Increased aggression was one of the most common side effects, which was one of the things that made the General so respected; despite being the one of the most tweaked-with members of the whole army, Sephiroth never lost his cool.

Maybe it was a genetic thing. Jameson leaned back to look at Toriko and was bothered to see she was not perturbed by the blood or violence at all; rather, she studied the mock-war with an intensity that was rather unnerving. What with the way her gray-green eyes were flicking over the entire scene, it almost looked like she were trying to memorize the battle...

"Barracks now," Sephiroth said abruptly, leaving the balcony. Jameson belatedly turned to follow him and frowned when he noticed that Toriko was right at her father's side. How had she known he would move so abruptly? She hadn't even been with him a week yet.

Sephiroth made cursory inspections of the barracks and the training facilities before declaring the inspection over. The entire time he said little to Toriko, but every time he spoke to her it grated on Jameson's nerves. Women—girls—weren't supposed to be in the garrison. Hellcats weren't supposed to be there either. And there was something just _wrong_ about the General, the hero of the Materia War, to be speaking the language of the enemy...

"Commander Jameson," Sephiroth said, glancing at him. "You look you like you have something to say to me."

Jameson gulped. While the General always welcomed discussion, he was quick enough to dismiss you if you didn't have something worth saying. Jameson didn't think his personal prejudices merited that, but Sephiroth's bright green eyes, the color of Mako itself, bored into him until he reluctantly cleared his throat and said, "Sir... Why?"

"Why what, commander?" Sephiroth said, his expression unchanging.

Jameson gripped his coffee cup. The three of them—yes, Toriko was there too—were sitting in the mess hall, in the special, closed-off room that was reserved for officers. In addition to being quieter and neater than the main hall, it also had better food and coffee that didn't taste like shit. But it might as well have, since Jameson couldn't taste it for the ashes in his mouth.

"Why... Everything." Jameson said, fighting to keep his temper. "Getting a kid, going public with her, taking her to the garrison..."

"You feel betrayed," Sephiroth murmured.

"Well... Yes, sir," Jameson said, lifting his head to look at him. "We fought like the Devil's own men to keep the hellcats on their island, and, well... You brought one home. How are we supposed to feel about that?"

"Are these sentiments shared by the rest of the armed forces?" Sephiroth asked, his green eyes keen.

"Certainly the vets, sir." In a lower voice Jameson said, "The civvies and the kids may believe you really loved her mother, but the warriors know better than that. Not that we'd ever say anything, but..."

Sephiroth picked up his coffee cup in long, black-gloved fingers, not saying anything for a long time. Then, quietly, he said, "I am still the same person I was before I declared Toriko, when I led the Continent to victory. I'm still your leader, your General. My loyalties to you and the rest of the armed forces have not changed."

He paused then and looked at Toriko, who was puzzling over her milk carton. Taking it from her, he popped it open and handed back, continuing to speak. "I can't run from my responsibilities. I never meant for Toriko to happen, but here she is. I can't turn her away. Could you, in all conscience, ignore a child of your blood?"

"...no." Jameson admitted, his face burning. "But—"

"You don't have to love Toriko," Sephiroth said in the same soft voice, his green eyes gleaming as he looked back at Jameson. "Just accept the fact that I do."

Jameson nodded slowly, his eyes dropping down to the table. "Yes, sir."

"Is there anything else, Jameson?" Sephiroth said, his voice returning to its normal tone.

Jameson hesitated. "Well... There is one thing, sir..."

"Yes?"

Jameson looked sidelong at his commander, saying, "Rufus being declared the Vice President of the Company made us all wonder if you've got a successor lined up..."

"I'm not even thirty, Jameson," Sephiroth said, sounding amused. "I won't be retiring for another twenty years at least."

"Well, yes," Jameson agreed, "but since you don't have a son to pass the post onto, we thought..."

Sephiroth looked at Toriko, who was quietly drinking her milk. She looked back at him curiously and put the carton down, licking the moustache off her lips.

"Nani?" She chirped.

"Kimi shinaide," he replied and looked back at Jameson. "We'll see what happens in the future—at least ten years from now. That's when I'll give some thought to it."

Jameson felt a wave of relief go through him. "Then you're not...naming Toriko?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Sephiroth said, frowning. "Currently she has no military experience or skill with arms. Even Rufus went to business school before becoming the Vice President."

Jameson grinned. "Of course, sir."

Sephiroth rubbed his mouth, but Jameson could see him smiling; it was something the General did more often than people believed. Whether or not they understood why he was smiling, though, was something else.

"The inspection is concluded," Sephiroth said, rising to his feet. "Needless to say, the garrison passed with flying colors." Touching Toriko on the shoulder, he said to Jameson, "I'll see you in my office at the end of the month."

"Yes, sir," Jameson said, getting to his feet and saluting. "Thank you for your time. I'll walk you out."

"No need," Sephiroth said, already turning to go. "Carry on, Jameson."

"Goodbye," Toriko said, waving at him.

Jameson was so surprised that he bemusedly waved back. "Bye," he said. She smiled shyly, the first expression he'd seen on her face all day, and trotted up to join her father by the door. In a swirl of gray and black, they disappeared. An uncanny pair, the both of them...

_"In ten years, she's going to be twenty-one," _Jameson realized suddenly. _"In ten years, he's going to give thought to his successor. And he never said he _wouldn't _name her..._

_"Oh SHIT!"_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Though she's not on I want to give a shout-out to my homie Meru-chan, former roommate and now neighbor, who good-naturedly tolerates me running into her room at all hours of the day to ask her about Japanese words. I got fuku-shachou (vice president; 'shachou' is actually the word for 'company president' specifically! Isn't that cool?) and ikou (come) from her. She even helped me out with formality and everything... She is COOL.

"Nani", as any anime fan should know, means "What". "Kimi shinaide" means "don't worry about it."

And just so things don't get confusing later, I'll say now that I think the people of the Planet have shorter life expectancies; they conk out at around 60 or 70 due to the Lifestream being drained, monsters randomly running around, and also to explain why 14-year-old boys would be allowed to join the army. And as long as we're on that note, I'm bending the canon to make Zack 18 now, instead of 18 during Nibelheim (his age was printed on his case file during Last Order—which was, may I say, frikkin' awesome! I wish my boyfriend had a voice like Zack's...). Just so you know.

/\/\/\/\/\


	23. Chapter 22

Put Your Lights On

10.07.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Twenty-Two

/\/\/\/\/\

Most men swore when they got angry. Other men hit things. A few sat and stewed, and their minds percolated with thoughts of how best to rectify their situations. President Shin-Ra was one such man, and he controlled his temper so well that the glass of strong brandy he was holding one hand didn't tremble.

Sephiroth was too smart for his own good. President Shin-Ra grimly realized that as he tossed the brandy down, grimacing both from the alcohol burn and the anger bordering on hatred for his brilliant general. Though President Shin-Ra wasn't quite sure how he'd orchestrated Awe's breakout (he couldn't possibly be stupid enough to be on AVALANCHE'S side, could be? No—what could they offer him?), he was dead sure Sephiroth had done it; how else would he end up with her? And another thing, how had they known each other, and how had they met?

_"He must've known about her before Hojo found her," _President Shin-Ra realized. _"It's the only thing that makes sense..."_

_"Hmm. Maybe that crock about being in love with a hellcat was true after all."_

Awe's distinctly Wutaiese features swam before his eyes, tinted gold by the copious amounts of brandy he had been drinking. President Shin-Ra grunted and set the empty snifter down before he could hurl it across the room. Hellcats. God, how he hated them. Only the older generation now—his generation, he realized with a grimace—remembered the Empire of Wutai, whose control had extended far beyond their miserable little island. They had held themselves high and mighty with their superior sword skills, their magic, and had tried to impress their way of life on everything they encountered. President Shin-Ra recalled the days of his youth spent praying to the Planet—the Planet, for God's sakes! The Planet was a hunk of rock and soil, not an animate creature like the Wutaiese so firmly believed. It was not meant to be worshiped, but used. When the usefulness of Mako had been revealed, President Shin-Ra been so happy he'd laid his wife. Against the sudden burst of power that Mako-related technologies had given the Continents, Wutai had shrunk back to its tiny island.

But the Continents had not been satisfied. They had the Mako, but the Wutaiese still had the materia, and it would have been a ridiculous arms race if they'd both been allowed to keep them. The Wutaiese would have just kept mastering and birthing new materia, and the Continents would have dug endlessly for Mako... And in the end, the Wutaiese would have won, because materia was an inexhaustible resource.

So the leaders of the Continents had chosen to bring the war to Wutai before that arms race could happen. Hundreds of thousands of young men had been shipped over and slaughtered, because Wutai had refused to fight anything but a defensive war. What little materia the Continents had had was no match for the mastered orbs that the Wutaiese had had in hundreds, and a fierce warrior tradition made almost every Wutaiese adult a walking death machine. Despite having superior numbers, the Continents had been getting their asses kicked...

President Shin-Ra smiled. That had been when his company had really taken off, with the invention and sale of the gatling gun and handheld automatic rifles. With all that new revenue, President Shin-Ra had decided to expand his company and let it drift into other areas, like science...

Those had been the good old days, when everything had gone his way down to the last detail. Not like now. Sephiroth, formerly so quiet and obedient, was striking out in a big way, stealing Hojo's most prized specimen and blaring her existence to the world so it would be impossible to take her back again. Plus, he'd done it in a way that would be impossible to prove his involvement. President Shin-Ra refilled his snifter and drank moodily, trying to think of a way to get Awe back and, if possible, punish Sephiroth.

_"I hate to say it, but he's outlived his usefulness... There are no more wars for him to fight, and as efficient as he is with his paperwork, it's nothing a couple of lower-paid clerks can't do. The SOLDIERS and the public will miss him, of course, but it doesn't take much to set up another hero..."_

But the work it would take to knock Sephiroth down! The public loved him, and why wouldn't they? He'd prevented the return of imperialistic Wutai and crippled it so badly that the once overlords of the world were now bootlickers. Children didn't have to learn to speak two languages unless they wanted to. And instead of praying to the dirt, they could look to the heavens. President Shin-Ra ground his teeth. The public's almost slavish devotion to Sephiroth would make getting to him very difficult.

_"What I need is for him to die... Him and Toriko. If the public were made to believe they were dead, Hojo could get them back with a minimum of trouble, and he has enough drugs to keep them sedated for the rest of their natural lives..."_

The more President Shin-Ra thought about it, the better killing Sephiroth sounded. Not immediately, though; even to the unwashed public, that would look suspicious since Toriko's appearance was still something of a black eye to the Company. No, no—a few years later, when Toriko was well established as a darling and Sephiroth as a loving father, that would be when he would strike.

_"Because why would the Company dispose of two such well-loved figures? It wouldn't, not to the public's reasoning. It'll be tragic accident, to be sure, and the two of them will become legends... Sephiroth will probably something of a saint to the SOLDIERS both old and new, the paradigm of their profession..."_

President Shin-Ra laughed quietly and drained his snifter. The alcohol burned pleasantly down his throat and into his stomach, filling him with a sense of well-being as he began to plot the "deaths" of his general and his daughter.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I hate Fat Man Shin-Ra as much as the next player, but he's not stupid... I'd like to believe that, but I can't, not for this story. Arr... He'll get his.

I am so glad I am taking a political science class—international relations—this quarter. All of a sudden, I am overflowing with ideas about the politics of the FFVII world...

/\/\/\/\/\


	24. Chapter 23

Quick A/N: after some ruminating, I switched Ch. 22 & 23. President Shin-Ra's chapter is now Ch. 22; this chapter, Seishi's chapter, is 23. Sorry for the mix-up.

Put Your Lights On

10.06.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Twenty-Three

/\/\/\/\/\

Silk whispered over the polished floors of the Blue Lotus, a classy teahouse that kept alive the traditions of the geisha in a commercialized and culturally whored-out Wutai. Suzu, who had come to the Blue Lotus as a prostitute six years ago, was still amazed at the changes that had been wrought by former noblewoman, now _okamisan_ Shusaku no Seishi. Even more remarkable was the fact that Lady Seishi had done it all while crippled by a mysterious disease, one that had caused her white flesh to turn black and liquefy from time to time. A lesser woman seeing her beauty fall away would have been driven mad; in contrast, the more flesh she lost, the sharper Lady Seishi became.

Suzu took off her shoes and stepped quietly into the small house that Lady Seishi lived in alone, delicately holding up one perfumed sleeve over to filter out the smell of Lady Seishi's disease. Beyond the sickly sweetness of rotting flesh, there was a wet smell that put Suzu in mind of grass and rain; the juxtaposition of the smells was quite nauseating. No one told Lady Seishi this to her face: not out of respect, but because she already knew. That was why she had the small house. From there, Lady Seishi ran everything in the Blue Lotus using Suzu as her proxy.

"Ma'am?" Suzu called, her voice slightly muffled by her sleeve.

"Lady Seishi is unwell today," said a small voice from Suzu's left, and the geisha turned to see one of Lady Seishi's servants looking up at her. Well, 'servant' wasn't really the correct term; someday Yoko would become a geisha, and her servitude with Lady Seishi was in exchange for the lady's tutoring.

"She's unwell every day," Suzu said, frowning. "This is important. Where is she?"

Yoko hesitated. "She's..."

"Yoko, who's there?" Called a voice from further in the house. Though harsh as always, Lady's Seishi's peevishness seemed to make her voice even sharper.

"Lady Suzu, ma'am," Yoko called back.

"I have something important," Suzu said quickly. "Something about your daughter."

There was a stunned silence from the other end of the house. "Come at once!" Lady Seishi ordered, and Suzu walked briskly, holding up her kimono so as not to trip on it. Yoko skipped up to run in front of her and open the door to Lady Seishi's private room.

Suzu nearly vomited. The stomach-turning smell of Lady Seishi's illness was strong outside, but in the privacy of her inner room the odor was near unbearable, like a thick cloud Suzu fancied she could cut through. Plain incense burned in the corners of the room, taking too little of the smell away with its curling white smoke. In the center of the room, Lady Seishi stood, leaning heavily on her cane as her second trainee, Tsukiko, wound fresh bandages around her body. Suzu tried not to cringe; the grotesque, never-fading bruises that pulsed in time to Lady Seishi's heart covered her almost completely now, and there were parts of her that looked eaten away and burned; those were the places where her flesh had sloughed off her in hissing black streams. Oblivious, or perhaps just resigned, to Suzu's reaction, Seishi looked over her shoulder and said impatiently, "What news of Toriko?"

"Great news," Suzu said, reaching into her sleeve to pull out a newspaper clipping. "The news you've waited on for four years, my lady." Opening the paper, she triumphantly turned it to show the picture on the front. "Toriko has joined her father."

Seishi went absolutely still. "She has?"

"Yes, my lady," Suzu said, smiling. "Everyone's in an uproar about it. The Demon declaring a Wutaiese child is—"

"Read the article," Seishi commanded.

Suzu's heart sank. She had trouble even reading Wutaiese, and Continental totally escaped her. Reading something in one language and saying it in another would impossible! But a second later Suzu realized that Seishi had not been talking to her; rather, she had addressed Yoko, who pulled the paper gently from Suzu's hand and began to read, deftly translating from Continental to Wutaiese.

"Few things have brought the Continents to a standstill. One was the declaration of war from the now-humbled Empire of Wutai, which struck fear into the hearts of mothers and wives everywhere. Another was the announcement of SOLDIER, whose superior fighting and magic-casting skills won the Materia War. Today a third event has made the world freeze with shock. On 0008-004, September 3, General Sephiroth Shin-Ra declared the existence of his illegitimate Wutaiese-born daughter."

Yoko had a great reading voice and a fine sense of the dramatic; Suzu could feel the collective horror of the Continental people, horror that only grew as Yoko read on.

"Conceived during the war, Toriko Shin-Ra was born as the child of a love affair between the General and a woman whose name was not disclosed."

Seishi snorted, but motioned for Yoko to continue reading.

"On 0008-004, September 1, Toriko arrived on the General's doorstep following a week-long journey from Wutai and the death of her mother several days prior."

Yoko faltered here and looked at Seishi, her large gray eyes questioning. Seishi turned all the way around to face her, her unbandaged eye sharp as always.

"Read on," she said, and winced as Tsukiko began to bind her damaged arms.

"Yes, ma'am." Yoko looked back down at the paper. "Sephiroth immediately recognized her from a ring he had given her mother, and took steps to make her his legitimate child."

"Is he stupid?" Seishi muttered, her expression becoming dark. "Continue reading, Yoko."

"In two press conferences yesterday, the General explained his decision to legitimize Toriko and the circumstances surrounding her birth. The transcripts of both broadcasts are printed below for your convenience."

Yoko then read aloud the broadcasts, the starkness of which made Suzu and Tsukiko stare. Seishi, however, remained reserved.

"While it is unknown what long-term affects Toriko's declaration will have on the General's popularity, it is speculated that more people will be sympathetic than antagonistic, in the spirit of the coming Wutaiese-Continental reconciliations," Yoko finished. Walking to Seishi, she held out the paper, saying, "It's not a bad picture."

To Suzu's surprise, Seishi did not take the paper or even show the slightest hint of emotion upon seeing it. Studying it intensely with her foxlike eye, Seishi chewed the inside of her lip for a long moment, and Suzu could almost see the lightning bolts of thought zipping around her mistress's mind. In the long moment of silence that followed, Suzu drifted back in her mind, recalling her own memories of Toriko. A stranger child she'd never seen; Toriko had neither laughed nor cried, and despite being a young child in a whorehouse, she had remained curiously untouched by the atmosphere of depravity that had hung over the Blue Lotus of yore. It wasn't that Toriko had been innocent; nobody who lived in a whorehouse remained ignorant of sex for long, or even morally pure. Rather, it was as though Toriko had simply removed herself from the situation, and had done it so completely that she'd rendered herself nearly invisible.

_"Maybe that was her way of trying to escape the place..." _Suzu mused. _"Da-Chao knows we all tried to, or would have, if we'd had any place to go to..."_

"Suzu," Seishi said suddenly.

"Yes, ma'am?" Suzu stood up straight, startled into attentiveness.

"Bring Nanashi to me."

Suzu bowed and left, though her brow was creased in confusion. Nanashi was one of the older women: thirty-something, graceful, beautiful, and intelligent, she was the ideal geisha. But in reality, Nanashi was one of the last female ninjas left in Wutai, their numbers having been severely reduced after the Continental men had discovered that their yielding "mistresses" were actually spies. Almost an entire generation of deadly young beauties had died beneath the swords of the men they'd been assigned to seduce and manipulate, leaving grandmas and babies to carry on the tradition.

_"What could Lady Seishi want Nanashi for?" _Suzu wondered as she made her way to Nanashi's room. Dressed simply as suited a woman of her professions, Nanashi was practicing her fan dance when Suzu opened her door and stepped in.

"Oh, Suzu," Nanashi said in surprise, shutting her fan with a snap. Today her kimono was black with subtle jet embroidery, reflecting a pattern that Suzu couldn't quite see. "This is an unexpected pleasure. To what do I owe this visit?"

"Lady Seishi wishes to speak with you," Suzu said, eyeing the fan. It had shut too quickly and loudly to be pure wood; was Nanashi still practicing ninjutsu? Suzu rather thought she was, seeing a sudden spark in Nanashi's steel gray eyes.

"I will go immediately," Nanashi said, tucking her fan into her obi. "Did Lady Seishi say what precisely she wanted me for?"

"No," Suzu said, "but it's quite important."

Nanashi nodded, her eyes considering. Bowing politely to Suzu, the former ninja woman stepped around her and walked toward Seishi's house on silent feet. Even her robes did not rustle as she disappeared down the long hall, and as she blended seamlessly into the shadows, Suzu rather thought she would not see Nanashi again.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

In case you've forgotten, "Toriko" reads as "prisoner of war" or "bird girl" depending on which kanji are used for her name. "Suzu" means "bell", which I considered appropriate seeing as she's the herald/messenger in this chapter. "Yoko" and "Tsukiko" mean "sun child" and "moon child" respectively. "Nanashi" means "no name." Finally, the characters of "Seishi" are the ones for life and death. Phew! Yay for http/ www. behind the name. com / nmc / . I got all but Toriko and Seishi from that site. I feel proud.

And just for general information, geisha are not prostitutes. In the past, the virginity of young geishas (sing. maiko) was sold to the highest bidder when they became full-fledged geisha, but this practice is no longer continued. I'll say it again because I can't believe how many people think this: **geisha are NOT prostitutes**. They are performers who dedicate their lives to mastering the arts of playing instruments, making conversation, doing calligraphy, and tons of other things that most of us would go bonkers just trying to learn. It's a dying profession due to the westernization of Japan, and if it does live on, it will be in a much-changed form. Sad, but the things you do for survival... Which is probably why geisha have such a bad reputation, actually. In WWII, desperate Japanese women dressed up in their nicest kimonos and began selling themselves as "geishas" (or "GEEshas", with craapy pronunciation) so they could make enough money to support their families. :shakes head: War is a terrible thing.

/\/\/\/\/\


	25. Chapter 24

Put Your Lights On

10.08.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Twenty-Four

/\/\/\/\/\

Reeve knocked on Sephiroth's door, anxiety and embarrassment twisting in his stomach as he waited to be let in. As he'd expected, Rose hadn't taken the news of Sephiroth's daughter well at all; she'd locked herself in her room and refused to speak to anyone, and she probably would have stayed in there all week if Meryl hadn't stuck a radio right by her door and forced to listen to the second broadcast. Then BAM! She'd flung the door open so hard that she'd hit Meryl in the face and nearly destroyed the radio, and it was all, "Oh, poor Sephy!" and "I wish I could do something," and "Dad, you work with him, right? Can you give him something from me?"

_"Reeve, you're a coward!" _He cursed himself. _"A coward!"_

The door opened and Reeve found himself looking down at Toriko, who'd forsaken her black wig and nice dress, and had gone back to wearing her thrift clothes and floral-printed scarves. She looked like a little old Wutaiese lady, and Reeve felt some of his discomfort ease away.

"Hello," he said, smiling.

"Hello," she said gravely. Apparently she'd learned that much Continental.

"Is your father home?" He asked.

Toriko turned over her shoulder. "Chichiue, Lii-bu ga imasu!"

"Reeve, this is a surprise," Sephiroth said, coming out of the hallway. Reeve only had time to notice that Sephiroth was in a tee-shirt and dark slacks before Sephiroth's eyes dropped, and Reeve felt his face burn as the General's brows rose in surprise.

"Is that a..." Sephiroth pointed, and Reeve sheepishly brought out the basket Rose had packed. "What is that?"

"It's a, uh... Care package," Reeve coughed, embarrassed. "From my older daughter, Rose."

"Kanojo mo henna posutaa wo motte masune?" Toriko said, looking from the cookies to Sephiroth.

"Nn," Sephiroth grunted. To Reeve, he said, "Please tell your daughter thank you from us."

"I will," Reeve said, holding the basket out. Sephiroth took it and picked at the cloth wrapping, lowering it so Toriko could look into it too. "Umm... She made sugar cookies. It's the only thing she can bake, so..."

Toriko and Sephiroth blinked at exactly the same time. It was more than a little creepy. Creepy, too, was the way they both said, "Oh."

"Oh?" Reeve said, offended. Then something occurred to him. "You said she didn't understand Continental!"

"She doesn't," Sephiroth said, looking at him and frowning.

"But she went 'oh' at the sugar cookies," Reeve said, pointing.

"She's never seen a sugar cookie before, let alone had one," Sephiroth said as Toriko curiously picked one up and looked at him. "Tabete misanai," he said, and Toriko put the cookie into her mouth. Reeve watched, amused and perturbed as Toriko's eyes lit up.

"She's never had a sugar cookie before," Reeve repeated, staring as Toriko happily chewed, her gray-green eyes shining.

"Sugar's expensive in Wutai," Sephiroth said, giving the basket to Toriko. Reeve watched her go to the kitchen and take out a plate from the cabinet before carefully arranging all of the cookies on it.

"Oh, she doesn't have to do that," Reeve said, walking over to stop her. "Really, they're just cookies..."

"Satou-Kukki ga oishii desu," Toriko said, arranging the lumpy cookies in a flower shape.

"Would you like something to drink, Reeve?" Sephiroth asked, watching his daughter bemusedly.

"Ahh, well, um..." Reeve glanced at his watch. It was five-thirty. He had about an hour before dinner at home. "Sure, why not?"

Toriko hopped onto the counter, still arranging the cookies as Sephiroth went into the small kitchen and began making the fixings for coffee or tea or what-have-you. Reeve walked over to the counter and sat down on one of the tall stools, watching Sephiroth.

"Something interesting?" Sephiroth asked, glancing at him.

"I just never thought I'd see you in street clothes," Reeve said, gesturing at him with one hand. "When you weren't in disguise, that is." Sephiroth chuckled, a purely amused sound, and Reeve relaxed a little more. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Depends," Sephiroth said, glancing at him. "There are some things I don't talk about."

"I understand," Reeve said. "I just wanted to know why you're not wearing jeans."

"You mean denim?" Sephiroth looked down at his pants. "These are easier to move in." He looked at Reeve and said, "The one time I did wear them was for those poster shoots."

Reeve blushed. "Oh... Okay."

Sephiroth looked at him, bemused. "So your daughter still has the poster, hmm?"

"Yes..." Reeve said, his blush deepening—not because the poster was particularly suggestive, but because Rose had covered the margins of it in pink hearts and girlish declarations of marriage and undying love.

"Pfahahaha!" Toriko unexpectedly burst out laughing and clapped her hands over her mouth as Reeve and Sephiroth swung around to look at her. "Hehehe... Gomen nasai..."

"What was that about?" Reeve asked, looking back at Sephiroth.

Sephiroth shrugged. "Don't look at me."

Reeve looked suspiciously at Toriko, whose face was still flickering with the traces of suppressed laughter, and had the nasty suspicion that she'd known what he'd been thinking...

_"But that's ridiculous. No one can read minds."_

"Coffee or tea?"

Reeve blinked. "Huh? Oh... Coffee, please."

"Hai douzo," Toriko said proudly. Reeve turned and saw that she had arranged Rose's cookies surprisingly well.

"Very nice," he said, and noticed that her eyes were still very bright. "Sephiroth, I don't think your daughter should have sugar."

"Duly noted," Sephiroth said, glancing over his shoulder and lifting a brow as Toriko began to giggle senselessly, her hands still over her mouth. "Do your girls react this strongly?"

"Meryl did when she was younger," Reeve said, watching as Toriko doubled over, shuddering with suppressed laughter. "It's not so bad now, but she still gets giggly—wait, how did you know I had more than one daughter?"

"Company party," Sephiroth replied, and Reeve remembered the event. It had been two years ago, and he had taken his family to the Building for an upper-executive soiree on the 69th floor. Rose and Meryl had gone off to mingle with other children their ages while he and Naomi had circulated among the adults. Dimly Reeve recalled seeing Sephiroth sitting in the corner of the room, surrounded by glowing-eyed men.

"How's your wife?" Sephiroth asked, and for a moment Reeve felt a pang of jealousy before he realized that Sephiroth was only asking a question.

"Oh, she's...fine." Reeve said, aware of how stiff he sounded. Sephiroth inclined his head, and Reeve wondered if the silver-haired man knew the reason for his reluctance. The idea that he might have made Reeve uncomfortable, and he found himself babbling. "Now that the girls are getting older, she's thinking about working again. Naomi used to be an architect, but then we got married and someone needed to stay home to take care of the kids..."

"Of course," Sephiroth said, nodding. "You wouldn't trust your children to anyone else."

Reeve looked at him in surprise. "...No," he said finally. "You wouldn't. Tell me, what's Toriko going to do while you're at work?"

"Sleep, mostly." Sephiroth replied. "She's not well, if you recall."

_"She seems sprightly enough to me," _Reeve thought as Toriko straightened, the laughter suppressed but her face still twitching. He watched in alarm as she popped another cookie into her mouth.

"She's also be working on her Continental," Sephiroth said, turning Reeve's attention. "Toriko is very determined to speak fluently as soon as possible. Here."

"Oh, thanks," Reeve said, half-standing to take the mug of coffee from Sephiroth. He sniffed the brew and blinked in surprise. "This smells great!"

"Imported from Gongaga," Sephiroth said, a slight smile curling his lips.

"And worth every gil," Reeve said, lifting the dark brew to his lips. His eyebrows shot up in appreciation. "Damn! How much do you pay for this?"

"Too much," Sephiroth said, shrugging. "But it's the only thing that doesn't offend my senses."

Reeve blinked. "So you have a heightened sense of taste too?"

"Taste, touch, hearing, sight, smell..." Sephiroth flexed the fingers of one gloved hand. "It's a good thing my pain threshold is proportionately higher."

Reeve frowned. "So...tasting bad coffee hurts?"

"Doesn't it?" Sephiroth asked with such a serious face that Reeve found himself laughing. Sephiroth rubbed his mouth, but Reeve could see him smiling.

"Chichiue!" Toriko exclaimed. Reeve felt proud; he knew what the word was. His feeling disappeared at the next string of liquid syllables that tumbled from Toriko's mouth. "Dansei no kata ga konomi desuka?"

"Baka na koto wo iuna," Sephiroth said with a light frown.

"What is she saying?" Reeve asked, looking from Toriko to her father and back again.

"She wants to know when I'm going to work tomorrow," Sephiroth replied.

Reeve frowned. "I thought I caught the word for 'stupid' in there."

Sephiroth shook his head. "No."

Reeve looked at Toriko, who was playing with the cookies again. She certainly didn't look like a child who'd just been called stupid by her father. Reeve brushed the matter aside and asked, "Have you given a thought to what school she's going to attend?"

Sephiroth looked annoyed and blew on his own cup of coffee. "No," he said. "Do you know any good ones?"

"You could send her to Waverly," Reeve suggested. "It's the one my girls go to."

"But is it good?" Sephiroth asked.

"I'd hope so!" Reeve exclaimed. "We're paying nearly fifty thousand gil a year for them to go there."

Sephiroth blinked. "What on earth could they be doing there that would cost fifty thousand gil?"

"I think most of that goes to pay the teachers," Reeve said.

Sephiroth looked at Toriko, who had made herself a cup of tea and was sucking on it noisily. Reeve surmised that she still had way too much sugar in her system. "It'll do," he said, looking back at Reeve. "Until we find out what she's good at."

"You're going to send her to a vocational school?" Reeve asked, blinking.

"Is there any reason not to?"

Reeve had to think about that one. "Well... No, not really, but—"

"It's just not done," Sephiroth said with a sardonic twist of the lips.

Reeve flushed. "Well...yeah."

Sephiroth smiled. "I have the feeling we're going to be doing many things that 'just aren't done'." Turning, his expression sobered and he reached past Reeve, pulling the plate of cookies toward him. "Mou Kukki ha tabesuki da."

"Hai, chichiue," Toriko said, and Reeve resisted the urge to edge away as he saw Toriko's eyes almost shining with the unholy amount of energy that was behind them. She was also grinning again.

"Yasuminasai," Sephiroth said, frowning.

"Hai, chichiue," she said, and walked very quickly around the kitchen counter, down the hall, and into one of the side rooms. Sephiroth looked at the cookies and then at Reeve.

"It's really the thought that counts," Reeve said, taking the cookies and putting them back in the basket.

"Thank you," Sephiroth said, and Reeve thought he sounded sincere.

Reeve glanced at his watch. "I should be getting back if I'm to...take care of these," he said, hefting the basket of cookies. "Thanks for the coffee."

"You're welcome." Sephiroth rose to his feet. "Thank you for coming," he said as the two of them walked to the door.

"It was fun," Reeve said, and was surprised to realize that he meant it. "Listen... Do you want to come over sometime and have dinner with us?"

"With your family?" Sephiroth asked, surprised.

"Yeah," Reeve said. Then he grinned and added, "I'm sure Rose would love to see you." As Sephiroth's eyes widened just enough to make him look alarmed, Reeve said, "And Toriko could meet Meryl."

"Meryl," Sephiroth said with a slow nod. "Yes... Well, that sounds good. When would you like us to come over?"

"Uh... I'll get back to you on that," Reeve said, suddenly remembering something. "We're going out of town next week. Costa del Sol."

"Have fun," Sephiroth said.

"We will," Reeve said with a smile. Stepping out into the hallway, he said, "Bye, and thank you again for the coffee."

"No problem," Sephiroth said, and quietly shut the door.

"_What, no bye?" _Reeve thought with a frown, but shrugged it off. _"He's probably not used to having visitors... We can fix that."_

Reeve was halfway down the hall before he suddenly realized something important. He stopped dead, his insides chilling, as he remembered what he'd done.

"_Damn it! I invited him to dinner!"_

Reeve invited everyone to dinner, but he could count the number of times his invitation had been accepted; to most people, eating dinner with a family was not the best career-boosting activity. One-on-one time with the boss was better. Besides, Reeve was a strict promoter, and no amount of being nice to him would get anyone a pay raise or a better job. The only people immune to such motivations—namely, the other Executives—were exactly the kind Reeve didn't want to have around his wife and kids; particularly Scarlet, because just her appearance in their home would give the wrong impression. A few times Reeve had considered bending his policy just enough to have people come over; he was proud of his family and though he'd never say it aloud, having coworkers over for dinner a subtle sort of way to show them off...

But really, had he grown so desperate for recognition that he'd just invited _Sephiroth_ over? Reeve knocked his head with his knuckles, sighing.

"_It's for Toriko," _he told himself. _"And Meryl. Toriko and Meryl. God knows they could both use some friends..."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Just so you know, there will be no Sephiroth/Reeve action. Yes, at times it may seem that Reeve is attracted to him, but honestly, who wouldn't be? That's the appeal of androgyny... You're everyone's meat.

:grin:

And Toriko does get hopped up on sugar really fast. She has no gradual, built-up resistance to it, like the rest of the candy-eating world does. Plus, since her system breaks it down so fast, it doesn't take much for her to go nuts almost immediately. Lord, imagine the child on caffeine...

Some notes/translations on the Japanese. For years I had translations by my roommates up, but I've been recently contacted by a native Japanese speaker and told (politely) that it was all wrong. So the language has been updated, and once again I learn that CONTEXT IS EVERYTHING! Especially in a language like Japanese, in which politeness and one's status are so damn important. When the reviewer kindly explained all the inconsistencies, I was wincing and all but hiding under a blanket. Ack! Oh well, but like I said, it's fixed now. And here are translations.

"Chichiue, Lii-bu ga imasu" - Father, Reeve is here! (There is V noise in Japanese like J pointed out, but I think the Wutaiese may be slightly more xenophobic in their sounds and won't have it. Yes, I'm lazy.)

"Kanojo "mo" henna posutaa wo motte masune." - She "has" a strange poster. The previous version was too informal and in the wrong tense.

"Tabete misanai" - "You should eat it". Again, the previous version was too informal and also, completely wrong considering the parent-child relationship between the two.

"Satou-Kukki ga oishii desu" - Sugar cookie is delicious. The previous wording made Toriko, a native speaker, sound like a tourist. Also, as the reviewer said, "She was trained by her mother to be polite and graceful, I'm sure her words will be too."

"Hai douzo" - I think this means 'done'. The other option was "Mite kudaisai", which I think means "look, please", and in any case, this replaces "ta-da". I opted for the former instead of the latter because Toriko is still at the stage where she doesn't want to draw TOO much attention to herself, and "hai douzo" seemed more retiring. AGAIN I COULD BE WRONG.

"Dansei no kata ga konomi desuka?" - When I originally gave this sentence for translation in English, I said "Does this mean you prefer men?" So I'm guessing that is also the rough approximation of what this means. The original translation also apparently translated to ""Do you very much prefer male people?", which is so hilariously awkward that I was almost tempted to keep it in there. But no.

"Baka na koto wo iuna" - I think this basically means "don't be stupid", with an edge of annoyance. Apparently the other way I had it written was "don't be stupid", but in an informal way that also had an improper ending that translated really weirdly.

"Mou Kukki ha tabesuki da" - "You've had too much cookies already". The prior phrasing had it "I'm sick of cookies", which was not what I wanted at all.

"Yasuminasai" - "Go to bed".

/\

On another note: DING DING DING! Ardwynna Morrigu got the "What is Seishi's disease?" question, which was posted in the prologue and has been in the running up until now! Yes, Seishi has Geostigma. Why? It's based on this line from E3 AC trailer.

"Geostigma is what happens when the body overcompensates for its unwelcome guest."

Ah, Vincent. He got some serious ups.

Okay, that's it, I think. Review me if you spot any problems.

/\/\/\/\/\


	26. Chapter 25

Put Your Lights On

10.09.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Twenty-Five

/\/\/\/\/\

It wasn't often Rude saw Tseng sweat, but the circumstances of the situation definitely merited it. Currently the two of them were sitting in Sephiroth's empty office, having been summoned there at 7 a.m.—only the maintenance people were in the Building then, and they were thinly spread, meaning there would be no one to hear them scream...

_"Stop thinking like that," _Rude told himself sternly. _"I'm a Turk Ace, and Tseng's the leader. Sephiroth is not going to kill us. He's not going to kill us. If he did, that would mean that Reno would be in charge, and nobody wants that..."_

Tseng let out a long, shuddering breath and Rude, for the first time in many years, realized how young he was. Yes, he was thirty-six and Rude was only two years older, but Rude had been with the Turks twice as long, and as a result had hardened himself to most of the hazards of the job. Having never risen above Turk Ace, Rude had been chewed out by his superiors more times than he could count (though Reno's slovenly behavior was setting a new record...), but Tseng, by virtue of his quick promotion, had never gotten that valuable training. As a result, here he was, squirming and sweating like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

_"Kidnapping the General's daughter isn't _exactly _like having your hand in the cookie jar, though... Your hand doesn't exactly get chopped off then."_

"He's making us stew," Tseng said miserably. Rude and Tseng had a peculiar relationship. Even though Tseng was Rude's boss, he'd never forgotten that at one time, he'd been under Rude's wing and as a result, treated him somewhat deferentially when they were alone. Rude supposed it was because of his Wutaiese upbringing, the "sempai-kohai" relationship that he'd heard about somewhere; basically, he'd been the better of the two of them when they'd been introduced, and Tseng was unable to forget that.

_"I wish he would... It's weird when he crumbles like this. I almost feel like I've got to take care of him."_

"It's okay, boss," Rude said comfortingly, reaching over to pat Tseng on the shoulder. "It only works if you let it."

Tseng laughed nervously. Damn, he just did not do well being in trouble. If Reno had been in his shoes, the red-haired Turk would have been speculating about how quickly they could paint Sephiroth's walls pink before they died a painful, sword-related death. It would have been funny or maybe annoying; in any case, Rude would have preferred it to Tseng's fatalism.

The door opened and Rude turned to see who it was. Fear sank in his stomach as Sephiroth strode in, wearing his usual black suit and poker face. Rude and Tseng stood, and saluted.

"At ease," Sephiroth said. Despite that command, Rude began to feel nervous. "Sit," Sephiroth said, and Rude sat. Tseng did too, though he sort of fell into his chair instead of sinking into it. Sephiroth walked around to stand before them, and instead of sitting behind his desk, he leaned against it instead and folded his arms, crossing his legs at the ankle. His posture was that of a boss merely talking with his subordinates, though Rude had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't so.

"It's come to my attention," he said, and Rude tensed for the blow. "That Hojo's been abusing the privilege of using the Turks."

"What?" Tseng exclaimed. Rude saw his fingers twitch. —_the fuck?—_

_--maybe we're not fucked?— _Rude flicked back.

"Don't do that," Sephiroth said severely, and Rude nearly jumped out of his skin. "Not in my presence. In the first place it's disrespectful, and in the second, you are fucked."

Tseng went as white as a ghost and clutched the armrests of his chair, his entire body stiffening. Rude gulped hard and tried to shrink into his chair; anything to get away without being obvious about it.

"All requests to use the Turks must come through me," Sephiroth said, his eyes narrowing. "Even though Hojo has a history of commandeering you to do his will, you are not permitted to do so without my permission. If you do let yourself be commanded by Hojo without my knowledge, the consequences will be severe."

It was the ever-so-slight emphasis on the word 'severe' that started to make Rude sweat.

"In the future, when Hojo commands you to do something, you come to me first," Sephiroth said, his Mako eyes narrowing. It seemed to make the light inside them more intense, concentrating the liquid green shine of them into something more like a beam. Rude wondered if a rabbit under a spotlight felt the way he did right now. "You will tell me what he wants done. Then _I_ will decide whether you go or not. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir," Tseng said weakly, echoed a second later by Rude.

Sephiroth looked slowly from Tseng to Rude and back again. Rude shuddered under the demonic blaze of Sephiroth's eyes; they were abnormally bright even for a First-Class SOLDIER, and their vertically scored pupils made him look inhuman. Rude had the fleeting impression of being a mouse before a cat—no, a lion. He couldn't help but feel sorry for Tseng as Sephiroth chose to fix his terrible gaze on him.

"The Turks are under my sole command," Sephiroth said, speaking directly to Tseng. "That means you obey me and no one else. Even if President Shin-Ra commands you to do something, you don't do it without my say-so."

Rude suppressed the noise of protest that was rising in the back of his throat. What the hell was Sephiroth saying? The Turks were still part of the Company, and if the President told them to do something...

"The Turks were created by the first head of Peace Enforcement," Sephiroth said, looking at the two of them. "He wrote the Turks' codebook, and in it, he specified that to spare the Company the liability of the Turks'...less-than-savory actions—"

_"Kidnapping, assassination, coercion," _Rude thought immediately.

"—that the existence and operation of the Turks would be solely under the head of Peace Enforcement's command."

_"You're basically telling us," _Rude thought, _"that you could whack us all and no one would or could give a shit."_

The same thought had obviously occurred to Tseng, who'd gone beyond the white-faced stage and was looking at Sephiroth with the blank, almost freaky calmness one saw in people about to die.

"Of course, sir." Tseng said, his devoid of all emotion. "We're at your complete disposal."

Complete disposal? _"Sure, just _tell _him to whack us!" _Rude suppressed his urge to glare at Tseng and he clenched his hands around his armrests instead, the wood creaking under his fingers.

Sephiroth looked at Tseng, his expression considering. "It's good that you realize that," he said slowly, his eyes narrowing. Tseng inclined his head in a silent 'yes'. Sephiroth continued, "You should also realize that I don't take kindly to you stepping around me whenever Hojo gives you orders."

_"Here it comes..." _Rude thought, swallowing.

"It offends me that you have so little loyalty," Sephiroth said, and Rude took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to control his involuntary shivers. "Even common grunts would know better. Stand up, Tseng."

Tseng got mechanically to his feet and stood before Sephiroth, who stopped leaning on the desk and turned to face him. Though Tseng was a bare inch shorter than Sephiroth physically and their faces shared a nearly identical stoic expression, there was no question as to who was the boss. Sephiroth's presence was undeniable. So was the knife he plunged into Tseng's stomach.

Rude stared as Tseng buckled, falling onto Sephiroth's arm as the General calmly drove six inches of cold steel into his abdomen. He gasped, white-faced, but seemed unable to make a sound. Reflexively Tseng clutched at Sephiroth's hand, but his jacket was in the way; Sephiroth had come from below and stabbed up, nailing him like an underplate thug.

"Sir!" Rude shouted, shooting to his feet. At that moment, he wasn't quite sure who he was yelling at; Tseng, who scrabbled uselessly at the knife in his stomach, or Sephiroth, who was casually twisting the blade. Tseng, however, was the one who looked at him, and his pale, blood-spattered face made something in Rude snap.

_"Sephiroth's our boss, not our fucking lord and master!"_

With a surge of rage such as he'd never known, Rude lunged forward to hurl a punch at Sephiroth's head. He wasn't berserk; even as his fist flew through the air, Rude knew he'd probably die, and he didn't really care. A Turk didn't take an attack on a teammate lying down, and after being essentially erased by Shin-Ra in order to become one, Turk pride was all Rude had to live—and die—for. It rather felt like he was dying as Sephiroth looked at him—not even surprised, just annoyed—and drove a knife into his stomach too, using the same up-the-jacket strike he'd used on Tseng. The breath rushed out of Rude's lungs with a "whoosh!" he would have found funny under other circumstances, followed by a burst of blinding pain that tinted his vision red. Rude gurgled as blood began to bubble up his throat.

"I hope this teaches you not to betray my trust in the future," Sephiroth said in a horribly calm voice, and Rude choked on his own blood as the silver-haired man twisted the knife in his stomach. Rude kicked out of reflex, and gasped wetly as Sephiroth lifted him single-handedly into the air, the knife digging in deeper as Rude involuntarily curled around it, impaled by vice of his weight. He clutched Sephiroth's arm, gritting his teeth as he tried to lift himself off the blade.

"No, sir..." Tseng gasped. "Never again..."

_"You fucking servile idiot!" _Rude wanted to scream.

Sephiroth's green eyes flicked to Rude, and the bald Turk almost whimpered as an iron compulsion came over him. _"Submit," _it whispered, _"and the pain will be over."_

_"I'm not that low," _Rude mentally growled. _"Not yet."_

"F...F-f-fu..." Rude tried to say, but the pain was too much. It snaked out from his stomach, throbbing in his blood with every heartbeat, and it clawed at his brain until reasonable thought was a happy fantasy.

"Trying to say something?" Sephiroth asked in a quietly malicious voice, and Tseng mewled as Sephiroth gave the knife in his stomach a vicious little twist. Rude flared, a spurt of anger that persisted even in the tide of his own pain.

_"Sadist!" _Rude mentally screamed. _"Torturer!"_

Tseng moaned, his eyes shutting into tight black slits. Rude glared at him furiously, helplessly, before swallowing his pride.

"F...forgive us," He gasped, and bile rose in his throat as well as blood, filling him with self-loathing. Rude glared at Sephiroth, daring him to smile or mock him, but the General maintained his legendary calm. _"Cold bastard," _Rude thought as his vision began to break up around the edges.

"I hope this has been a valuable lesson," Sephiroth said, lowering Rude to the ground. The intense, nearly blinding pain in Rude's stomach lessened as his feet touched the ground, the weight of his upper body no longer forcing the knife deeper into his viscera. "Cure3 all," Sephiroth said as he pulled the knives smoothly from their stomachs, and at once the agony disappeared in a rush of multicolored sparks. Rude staggered, clutching Sephiroth's desk as he fought to regain control of his shaking legs. Tseng dropped to his knees, catching himself on his hands. The sound of ragged half-sobs was loud in the room. Sephiroth pulled a couple of tissues from the box on his desk and wiped his knives clean.

"Dismissed," he said, and Rude shakily turned toward the door. Tseng had managed to get back to his feet, and he tottered toward the door with the stiff gait of one who'd just been fucked up the ass. Rude imagined he was walking pretty much the same way, because after all, hadn't they been?

_"If this isn't an abuse of power, I don't know what is," _Rude thought numbly as they walked into the hall, Tseng shutting the door behind them. Tseng heaved a sigh and sank against the wall, closing his eyes.

"Thank God that's done with," he said, and Rude blinked. Very, very slowly, he turned to look at him.

"What?"

Tseng opened his eyes. "Come on, Rude—you can't say you didn't see this coming."

"The fuck I did!" Rude exhorted. "What kind of psychopathic—" He choked back his next couple of insults as he suddenly remembered the superkeen hearing of First-Class SOLDIERS and that he was standing right outside the General's door.

Tseng jerked his head toward the elevator and the two of them took off at a brisk walk, silent the whole way. Only when they were safely inside and heading toward their own floor, the 50th, did Rude start to speak again.

"Who the fuck does he think he is?" Rude said angrily, clenching his fists. "The fuck does he get off treating us like that?"

"He's our boss," Tseng said, smoothing down his hair. "He does what he likes."

"We're not property!" Rude shouted, whirling on Tseng. "We're human beings! We don't—"

"Rude, calm down." Tseng said, half-closing his eyes and leaning against the back of the elevator. "We're still alive, and we have all our limbs. He could have done much worse to us."

"I don't care!" Rude said. "There's no reason he _should_ have done that to us! Dock our pay or something, yeah, but—" Tseng muttered something under his breath. "What?" Rude asked, frowning.

Tseng sighed. "You people make such a big deal over these things."

Rude stared. "You people?" He repeated slowly.

"Yes, you people," Tseng said, annoyance creeping into his voice. "Death before dishonor, human rights, that kind of crap; the individual over the state." As Rude gaped at him, Tseng adjusted his tie and said, "You'd do well to remember that what happens to you isn't the most important thing in the world."

"It's important to _me!_" Rude shouted.

"Does it matter in the big picture?" Tseng asked, looking at him sharply. "I think not. Suck it up, Rude."

That did it. Rude lost his temper for the second time that day and threw his fist at Tseng, missing him on purpose to smash into the glass behind his head. It fractured, nicking the thin skin on his knuckles, but Rude didn't notice the pain; he was too busy glaring at Tseng, who hadn't flinched even as Rude's fist had gone sailing by his head.

"We've just been fucked," Rude growled to him. "And you're just sitting there and taking it. Where is your pride?"

"I'm more interested in surviving than in defending my virtue," Tseng snapped, his eyes narrowing. Rage began to boil poisonously in Rude's blood as he detected the veiled insult. Lowering his head, Rude leaned down until his forehead was nearly touching Tseng's.

"Virtue, huh? You're a slanty-eyed whore," Rude hissed. "Just like the rest of your people."

Tseng's eyes flashed and he opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment the elevator dinged, and the two of them turned to see Reno about to step into the open doorway. He blinked and stopped in midstep, looking at the two of them for a long moment without saying anything.

"Am I interrupting something?" He asked with a perfectly innocent face.

Tseng brushed past Rude with a snarl of irritation and stalked out of the elevator. Reno jumped back to let him pass, looking perplexedly from Tseng to Rude and back again.

"What's up?" Reno asked as Rude grumbled and stepped out, sliding his bloodied hand into his pocket.

"Nothing," Rude said, shelving his emotions. "He's just...you know."

The ambiguous answer had the desired effect. Reno nodded sagely and said, "Well, you know the Wutaiese; they've all got sticks up their butts ever since we kicked their ass in the war."

"You almost make it sound like we put the sticks up there," Rude said, looking down at him.

Reno shrugged. "Didn't we? They used to be the masters, and now they're licking our shoes. Bet it costs them to do that."

"What do you mean?" Rude asked, frowning.

Reno jerked his head at Tseng, who had disappeared into one of the offices scattered on the 50th floor. "Take a look at the boss-man there; how many times you think he gets snubbed a day? Especially being the head of the Turks, he's gotta swallow it all if he don't want to lose everything. And you know he's got something of a temper."

Suddenly it all fell into place; no wonder Tseng could so easily accept what had happened to him. It was only part of something larger that happened to him every day. Rude felt a twinge of guilt, but not for long. Being discriminated against was one thing, but being treated like shit was something else entirely.

_"And he just rolled over for it. Damn it, I thought he was different from the rest of his people..."_

"You okay, Rude?" Reno asked, looking up at him in concern. "You look like you're real pissed about something."

Rude looked at him for a long moment, wondering if he could tell him what had just gone on. On the one hand, Sephiroth would be right pissed and he did have exclusive whacking rights to the Turks; on the other, it wouldn't matter if Reno knew, since there wasn't anything that could be done about it anyway. Rude mulled over his choices for a while before deciding to err on the side of caution.

"No," Rude said, shaking his head. "Not pissed about anything."

"Okay..." Reno said slowly, clearly not convinced. "You know you can talk to me if you're pissed, right? Or upset, or whatever?"

"I know, Reno," Rude said, smiling a little. "You don't have to worry about me."

Reno shrugged. "I kinda do that when my friends start smelling like blood."

Rude blinked. "What?"

"Blood," Reno said. "You know that red stuff that comes out of people when we kick the shit out of them? It has a smell. You and Tseng have it all over you."

While a part of Rude snickered at Reno's statement, (after all, what logically came out of people when you kicked the shit out of them was usually not red) the larger part of him was frozen as his blood went cold with mixed shame and fear. Luckily, his sunglasses masked the widening of his eyes, the only change in his otherwise stoic expression.

"I'm not going to ask any questions," Reno said, looking up at him. "But I just hope you'd trust me enough to tell me what was going on."

Rude felt a terrible compulsion to speak coming over him. He'd forgotten that Reno could be nearly as persuasive as a woman when it came to extracting information, a skill that carried excellently over to interrogations. The words pressed against his closed lips, pulling so strongly that they made him lean forward.

"I..." he said, somewhat strangled. "Can't."

Reno shrugged again. "S'okay, Rude," he said, looking down at the floor. "I understand."

Then he walked away, and his slouch seemed just a little more pronounced, like he was really down about it. Rude resisted the impulse to chase him down and tell him exactly what had happened.

_"It's for his own good," _he said to himself as he turned and walked to the break room. Out of all the break rooms in the Building, the one on the Turk floor was the only one that had alcohol in the refrigerator, and Rude was finding himself in need of a stiff drink. His rage at Tseng's scorn and conditioned helplessness, and his Reno-manipulated guilt needed some serious quenching. Striding into the break room, he ignored the strange looks from his coworkers and immediately yanked a bottle of vodka from the refrigerator, tossing half the contents back in a long, angry swig. The alcohol burned down his throat, and Rude grimaced as he realized that he just seemed to be getting angrier.

_"So much for this stuff being a goddamn depressant!"_

Plunking himself down at the nearest table, Rude moodily drained the bottle and wrapped his fingers around the cool glass when he was done, staring at his distorted reflection. Vaguely he was aware that he was being stupid.

_"Maybe I am making too big of a deal out of this... I mean, we did kidnap Sephiroth's daughter and hand her over to Hojo... We didn't even tell him she existed. I should have expected some medieval crap like this. Tseng's right. We're still alive and we got all our limbs... And genitals. The fucker even healed us when he was done. There are so many ways it could have been worse..._

_"So why am I still so pissed? I knew when I signed onto the Turks that I became Company property, that I was just another weapon. Point and shoot, you know? Just a smart gun, really..._

_"Wait a minute, what the fuck am I saying? I'm just gonna let someone stick a knife into me and call it punishment? Hell no! I didn't sign on for that!_

_"But even if I do go up there and give him my two cents, what's to say he won't kill me? Or fire me? Fuck, if he fires me, I got nowhere else to go... And I'll have to die anyway, since I've seen the down and dirty side of Shin-Ra Inc._

_"Oh yeah. I'm screwed._

_"...guess I'd better get used to it."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I decided to reverse (kinda?) the expected sensibilities of the Continental and Wutaiese people; that is, the Continental people are the ones who have a strong honor code and the Wutaiese are sneaky and survive-at-all costs, kinda; how else would you explain a ninja family ruling the place?

And about Rude being so pissed; he's been a Turk for about twenty years, and this is the first time he's ever been so poorly regarded. He's used to getting in trouble, but he's never been corporally punished. Tseng, on the other hand, has grown up in a society where force is the natural way of things, and though he has the nervous shakes when he gets into trouble, he's actually better equipped to deal with this kind of abuse because, well... It's kinda happened before. Now, it can be argued that it's OOC for Rude to call Tseng a slanty-eyed whore, but remember, Tseng is his boss; Rude looks up to him, and in a way, expects Tseng to protect him from things like this. He's bitterly disappointed both in Tseng's lack of action and how Tseng just accepted what was going on. Quite naturally he's going to lose his temper.

And about the racism—seriously we got eyes in the front of our heads, and we're naturally going to make observations based on how a person looks. Those observations (schemas, if you're into psych) that will determine the way we act with people. Especially when we get pissed, we'll revert to our first impression of a person, which in Rude's case is that of Tseng being Wutaiese. And just for clarification, Rude is kinda racist, but he makes an exception for Tseng.

And Tseng does have a temper. People write him as a cool motherfucker, but everyone seems to forget he taunted Cloud and co. on the pillar and also slapped Aeris. _He slapped Aeris._ Tseng is mean. I will maintain this until the rest of my days.

Phew, that was a long note... Hope it cleared everything up. Drop me a line if there's still something that's a little foggy.

Speaking of which, Toriko has not seen makeup before—this is in reference to Silver Whirl's review dropped around Ch. 17. Yes, the Blue Lotus was a brothel, but they were just that poor.

/\/\/\/\/\


	27. Chapter 26

Put Your Lights On

10.10.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Twenty-Six

/\/\/\/\/\

Toriko sat at the kitchen counter, her chin resting on the polished marble and her eyes nearly crossed as she stared intently at the spoon that was sitting there. Back in her cell, Hojo had never given her anything that wasn't bolted down, and there had been a reason for that. Toriko glared at the spoon, and smiled when it began to rock from side to side.

_"So I can't just do it when I'm angry," _she thought, sitting up. _"That's nice."_

She stared again at the spoon, trying to figure out how to make it move on purpose. Back in the lab, whenever she'd gotten angry, things had exploded or burst into flame; usually she'd been strapped down, unable to strike Hojo, so her anger had vented itself on other objects. When she wasn't angry, though, she couldn't make anything happen.

"Move," she said to the spoon, and of course it did nothing. Toriko stared hard at the spoon, opening her eyes so wide that she could feel her eyeballs cooling. "Move," she said, and the spoon still did nothing. Toriko sighed.

_"Maybe I just imagined it moving," _she thought, and put her head back on the counter. Why was it so hard to move a spoon? It didn't weigh much, and it wasn't like she wanted to bend it or anything. She just wanted it to move a little, about an inch or so. Was that so hard?

Toriko imagined the spoon moving. No, she did more than that; she literally _saw_ the spoon moving, saw its shadow flicker over the rippled marble of the countertop as it slid back, its slick metal finish soundless against the polished stone. Toriko saw the light shining off the curve of its bowl—

And blinked as she realized that the spoon was no longer in the same place.

_"It can't be that easy," _she thought and looked at the spoon again. This time she visualized it rising into the air, the light gleaming off its curved metal surfaces—and nothing happened.

_"I thought so." _Toriko sighed and picked up the spoon. _"Just my imagination."_

The long and short of it basically was that Toriko was bored. She could only clean so many times, and she wasn't so fond of cooking that she'd do it for no reason. Sephiroth had removed the sugar cookies, so there wasn't anything to mindlessly snack on...

_"I'd go out, but I'm afraid. I would read something, except he doesn't have any books. Oh, Father, what am I supposed to do with myself?"_

"What am I supposed to do?" She asked the spoon. Its lack of response wasn't unexpected, but it annoyed her anyway. With a sigh, Toriko put the spoon down on the counter and looked at it. "Well, you're no help."

Toriko slid off her chair and began to pace the apartment. For lack of anything better to do, she began to remember the many odd little things Seishi had taught her—mostly by verbal instruction, since Seishi's joints weren't what they used to be, and unconsciously by memory. Toriko sat down and stood up as gracefully as her mother used to, and began to work through the intricate but soothing steps of a fan dance. Seishi's memories flickered across her mind, drawing Toriko into a time when Seishi had known nothing of sex or the evil men could wreak, and when Wutai had been the benevolent monarch of the world. The scent of clean autumn filled Toriko's nostrils, and a crisp fall wind she had never experienced swept over her skin...

"Hn," a familiar voice said, and Toriko nearly tripped over her feet as she spun around to see her father standing in the doorway, a bemused smile on his face. "Very nice."

"Thank you," she said with a deep bow. "Welcome home, Father. How was work?"

"Alright," he replied, stepping in. Toriko twitched as the faint but unmistakable smell of blood touched her nostrils. She looked questioningly at him and Sephiroth looked at his gloved hands, saying, "Some of my employees required...discipline."

"Ah," Toriko said, catching an impression of a shaved palate and a bindi.

Sephiroth looked at her, a brow arched in surprise. "Ah? That's all you've got to say?"

Well no, but... "Did you kill them?"

Sephiroth turned and looked at her, leaning on the kitchen counter. "Someday," he said, "I'm going to take you into the slums and have you knife a mugger. Then you'll know what it's like to kill someone, hm?"

Toriko twitched. "Umm... That's not necessary, Father."

"You've got to learn sometime that killing isn't done lightly." He said, frowning.

"Yes, Father," Toriko said, bowing again.

"Stop that," Sephiroth said, his frown deepening. "You're not in Wutai anymore, and you don't have to bow to anyone."

"Yes, Father," Toriko said, straightening. Despite his words, though, she felt uncomfortable not bowing. It was something she'd been trained to do since an early age, and being told not to do it was almost like being told not to breathe.

_"A bow is quite eloquent; it can smooth over nearly anything if used in the right place."_

"Let's have dinner," Sephiroth said, and Toriko set up the table as Sephiroth began to cook. "What did you do today?"

"Dance," Toriko said, because she didn't want to tell him about her attempts to move a spoon. He glanced at her strangely, though, and she had the feeling he knew.

"How did that work out?" He asked, nodding at the counter. The spoon was still there, and Toriko blushed.

"I think I was seeing things," she said.

"Try it," Sephiroth said.

She stared at him. "What?"

"Try it," he repeated. "Since you were imagining it moving, is it possible that you made it move and then didn't realize it?"

"No," she said, but even as the word left her mouth the possibility began to make sense to her. Suddenly curious, Toriko looked at the spoon and imagined it sliding slowly across the counter, up to Sephiroth's hand...

_"If I'm really imagining this, then the spoon will not touch his hand. It will still be back on the counter, and I will be staring uselessly at—"_

Sephiroth picked up the spoon that was nudging at his hand and Toriko nearly fainted.

"Very nice," Sephiroth said, inspecting the metal object. "And potentially useful." To Toriko's great shock, the spoon lifted up and floated toward her, reflecting her pale, wide-eyed face in upside-down and distorted relief. Sephiroth learned on the kitchen counter, saying, "You have to expect it to move as you want it to."

"Y-yes, Father..." Toriko stammered, and cringed as the spoon dropped abruptly to the counter, clattering with a metallic chime.

"Being around you is an experience," Sephiroth said, making her look up. "I didn't know I could do that until now."

"What?" Toriko exclaimed, her eyes widening. "Then how...?"

"I got the impression of what you did," Sephiroth said, "and expanded on it."

Toriko was impressed. No wonder he was the leader of all the Shin-Ra forces; not only was he smart, but he was an innovator.

"You're never too old or too late to learn something," he said, smiling faintly. "Bear that in mind particularly when I start teaching you weapons."

Toriko shrank a little. "Must I learn?"

"Yes," he said, his expression sobering. "You must. We'll start as soon as your weapons arrive."

"My weapons?" Toriko exclaimed.

"I took the liberty of ordering some today while I was at work," Sephiroth said, turning back to his cooking. "Learning to use them will occupy your hours."

"Yes, Father..." Toriko said dubiously.

"You will be a great swordswoman," he said, but Toriko got the impression he wasn't talking to her. "No one will be able to hurt you. Your reputation will be such that the mention of your name will strike fear into the hearts of your enemies."

_"Like yours?" _Toriko asked silently. _"Will it also inspire anger and hate? I don't want that... I just want to be left alone, to grow up as normally as I can. I never asked to be this way, and yet you're forcing me to become what my blood—your blood—dictates. Mother sent me to this land because it offered me more choices, but you're giving me none..."_

On the other hand, he was her father and duty demanded that she obey him. Not only that, but he could hit her if she didn't, and she strongly suspected that even a light tap from him might take off her head.

_"And he's much older than me. I should bow to his experience, if nothing else."_

"As you wish, Father," Toriko said respectfully.

Sephiroth glanced at her. _ "That's all you seem to say," _he thought at her. _ "Yes, Father; as you wish, Father. Will you really let me take control of your life so passively?" _

_ "You're my father," _she thought back. _ "It's your prerogative." _

_ "It's your life," _he replied. _ "So that makes it yours." _

"I'm doing this for your own good," he said aloud. "I know you don't want to learn weapons, but it's a necessary skill. If you can kill monsters, you'll never need to use prostitution to survive."

_That_ immediately convinced her of the value of weapons.

"I'm starting you off with standard-issue arms," Sephiroth said. "Later, when you get better, I'll have something custom made." He glanced at her and said, "You should set aside a suit of clothes specifically for fighting. It'll put you more in a certain mindset."

"But I don't have anything." Toriko said, mentally running through her scanty inventory.

"Improvise," he said. "Old clothes are the best, since they'll probably get ripped and torn."

Something occurred to Toriko. "Are you going to fight against me?"

"The correct term is 'spar'," Sephiroth said. "And yes, I will. Experience is the best teacher. Don't worry," he said, seeing the expression on her face. "I won't use live steel with you. We'll use dull weapons in the beginning."

Dull weapons were what the SOLDIERS in the mock war had been using, and they'd still incurred terrible injuries...

"And we'll be using the roof," Sephiroth said. "It's a large, walled space where we won't be interrupted."

Toriko stared. "What if I fall?"

"Ten stories won't kill you," he said in a terribly casual voice. "I'll teach you some jumping mechanics to soften your fall as well."

The memory of her escape flashed before Toriko's eyes, and all of a sudden it was as though she were back in that long, dark elevator shaft, with nothing but black infinity beneath her...

_ "Learn to control your mind," _Sephiroth told her severely. _ "You have entirely too much fear." _

_ "Fear keeps one healthy," _she retorted. _ "And respectful." _

_ "Are you implying I need to be respectful of _you? _Need I remind who is the parent and who is the child?" _

_ "...no." _

"You'll be fine," Sephiroth said in an oddly gentle voice. "I won't hurt you."

_"Intentionally," _Toriko thought.

Her silence communicated her disbelief, and Sephiroth turned from the vegetables he was slicing to look at her.

"Do you have that little faith in me?" He asked, his voice encompassing a world of annoyance, impatience—and hurt? Surely not. "What have I done to hurt you?"

"...nothing," Toriko said slowly. "But the fact that I'm here means you hurt Mother, at the very least."

Sephiroth frowned. "Well... Yes, but that was a long time ago. I'm not like anymore."

_"Are you really?" _Toriko thought, looking at him. _"I don't think so. The Demon that hurt my mother is still within you, Father..."_

Sephiroth looked at her for a long moment, annoyance flickering over his thoughts. "Well," he said finally. "We haven't known each other for long. Trust will undoubtedly grow with time."

"Yes, Father," she said, but she could tell from his frown that he knew she didn't believe it. Luckily, he didn't press the subject.

"Go change," he said instead. "I'll teach you how to cook something else tonight."

Toriko smiled. "Yes, Father," she said, and went to do just that.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I've been thinking about doing Sephiroth and Seishi's story... Not in Put Your Lights On, but maybe as a separate thing on Adult Fanfiction since there will be graphic descriptions of rape and abuse. I tried to write around them, but the story quality went down and I just didn't like it... Anyway, if you want to see such a story, drop me a line. I probably won't be writing it for a long time, but it's always to know someone's going to be there to read it...

And since this is an AU, I feel perfectly at home making Sephiroth and Toriko telekinetic. It's not that big a leap from telepathy, is it? ...Darn it. I just used the two words I swore I wouldn't put in this story. Telekinesis, telepathy, and psychic; those three words I try to stay away from, though I'll use 'psychic' as long as it's not Sephiroth and Toriko talking. If I accidentally drop the other two terms in the main story, please let me know. Thank you.

/\/\/\/\/\


	28. Chapter 27

Put Your Lights On

10.11.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Twenty-Seven

/\/\/\/\/\

Nanashi tried not to breathe too deeply in Midgar. The air was foul, for one thing, with the stink of Continental machines, but also for the stench of the Continental people. Dear Da-Chao and Leviathan, they smelled like curdling milk and cheese! Nanashi supposed that was because that was what they chose to eat. She hoped the package she carried on her back, a wooden box tied in a _furoshiki_ and tied on with braided cords, wouldn't smell too terribly of the city.

Nanashi walked alone in Midgar, wearing nothing but Continental clothes; jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket made of the same material as her pants. Her hair, which was normally swept up in an elaborate style, hung in a straight cable down her back, tied with a red ribbon. That combined with her clothes and some artful makeup shaved at least ten years off her age, and Nanashi couldn't help but smile as some of the Continental men threw appreciative looks her way. They wouldn't be smiling so much if they'd known the body they were lusting over had caused more deaths than they could imagine.

But Nanashi wasn't in Midgar to kill. She was there to deliver a package, something Seishi had wanted to send to her daughter Toriko. Toriko—Nanashi had neither met nor seen the girl, and in fact knew only of her by reputation. Apparently she'd been just like her mother at seven years old, all cold hard business and sharp eyes. It was oddly appropriate that her father was the Demon, whose mere mention was used to frighten small children into compliance. Nanashi wondered if he could smell fear, like the old-timers claimed; she hoped he wouldn't smell hers.

The Demon lived in one of the more affluent sections of Midgar, which she expected. What Nanashi hadn't expected, however, was how ugly the building was. Made of gray concrete like everything else in Midgar, it was studded with the sharp lines and graceless square windows that the Continentals seemed to adore; from research previously conducted, Nanashi knew the Demon lived at the very top of the building, and that the usual way to reach him was to go inside and take the lift up to his floor. Before that, however, she had to pass through a glass-walled lobby that was patrolled by armed guards, who protected the bodies and privacy of the wealthy patrons in the building. Nanashi had no intention of going through them. For one thing, they'd treat her like shit since she was Wutaiese; for another, probably try to molest her since she was good looking; and finally, they might mess up the gift that Lady Seishi had gone to great lengths have sent to her daughter. Nanashi walked around to the side of the building, which had a narrow alley between it and the next building over. She glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching her.

_"I don't see anyone... Good."_

Nanashi crouched, touching her fingers lightly to the ground to center herself, before leaping straight at the wall. Whipping around in midair, she bounced off it and sprang off the opposite side, jumping up several more feet. Jump, jump, jump; such leaps had been part of her basic training. Nanashi was glad she'd kept up (secretly, of course) with her ninjutsu after the war; if she really had become a geisha, even one wall-leap would have been too much for her. Luckily, her legs were as strong as ever, and the traction on her rubber-soled Continental boots was superb: ten wall-jumps later she was standing on the balcony of the Demon's apartment with nobody the wiser. Brushing off her jacket, Nanashi walked up to the glass doors and slid them open; they were not locked.

"Hello."

Nanashi stopped, frozen in the doorway as the small, quiet voice reached her ears. Looking around with just her eyes, she quickly spotted a young girl, her head covered with a handkerchief, who was sitting in a couch just to Nanashi's left.

"It's a good thing Father's not home," the girl said—this had to be Toriko. Not only did she speak Wutaiese, but who else would call the Demon 'Father'? "He would be angry at having his space violated."

"You are Toriko?" Nanashi asked, looking at her.

"I am," the girl said, rising from the couch; briefly, Nanashi caught a glimpse of the grace Seishi must have had before the Demon had had her. "You are a kunoichi, aren't you? A female ninja?"

"I am," Nanashi said, inclining her head in a bow.

"You've come to kill me," Toriko said with an eerie calmness. "Anything to hurt my father for what he did to Wutai, hmm?"

"No," Nanashi said, shaking her head. "I'm from your aunt."

Toriko blinked. "My…aunt?"

"Yes," Nanashi said. Now started the lies that Seishi had impressed to her, the lies that would keep Toriko safe in her new world. Stepping into the apartment, Nanashi said, "Your aunt Seishi, sister to your mother Shicho, who always felt bad for the way the rest of the family treated you and your mother."

Toriko smiled; apparently she'd caught on. "Aunt Seishi..."

Nanashi unslung the box from her back, kneeling to put it gently on the ground. "She sent you a gift."

Toriko also knelt, and Nanashi saw her hands trembling as she touched the dark, polished wood, her hands tracing over the inlaid brass designs that were both decorative and protective.

"Aunt Seishi is generous," she murmured, and looked at Nanashi. "Is there a message?"

"She hopes you are being treated well," Nanashi said. "If not, you are always welcome to return." As one of Toriko's brows quirked, Nanashi said, "Things are different now. The...head of the family you knew has been deposed, and your aunt is now in charge. Things are much different under her rule."

"I can imagine," Toriko said with just a hint of a smile.

"They're better," Nanashi said seriously. "They're much, much better."

Toriko kept her eyes on the box and ran her fingers lightly over it, not saying anything. "Is she still sick?"

Nanashi nodded. "Yes. And she's getting worse."

"Does it look like she'll die?"

Nanashi blinked. Toriko's tone had been perfectly bland and clinical, almost as though she had no feelings about her mother at all. "Well... To be honest, Miss Toriko, we don't know. Those from the old days thought she would die within a year, but..."

Toriko looked up. "Her hate keeps her alive."

Nanashi frowned. "Hate? I don't—"

Toriko stood up, shaking her head. "Aunt Seishi hates what happened between my father and my mother. She wishes to see him suffer for Mother's disgrace. She wants to take me away, right?"

Nanashi shook her head. Inwardly she marveled at how accurately her inner script, the one Seishi had given her, fit the situation. It was almost like Seishi had had this conversation with Toriko before, and all Nanashi was doing was speaking for her... "No, Miss Toriko. It's true, she hates your father, but... Well, you have a better life here than you would there, and she doesn't want to ruin that."

"So why make a link between us?" Toriko asked, frowning. "Why send a gift which can be traced back to her?"

Nanashi looked up at her. "Is it so wrong for your aunt to send a token of her regard?"

Toriko's lips twisted, whether in a smile or a grimace Nanashi didn't know. "Regard," she murmured. "How appropriate..." Toriko turned away, looking up at the ceiling. "You may go; please tell Aunt Seishi thank you for the gift. Send her my...regards, as well."

"Yes, Miss Toriko," Nanashi said, bowing and touching her head to the floor.

"There's a service elevator in the back of the building," Toriko said, still not looking at her. "It's unlocked and unguarded, though I'm sure you could have taken care of either state; go down that way to avoid trouble."

"Yes, Miss Toriko," Nanashi said, rising to her feet. "Um... Aren't you going to open the gift?"

Toriko looked over shoulder, her clouded-jade eyes veiled as she looked at Nanashi. "Aunt Seishi should remember that it's not polite for one to open presents while the givers are still around. Now please go; Father will be home soon."

The veiled threat made Nanashi cross the apartment quickly and exit the place, taking the service elevator down to the street. _"Toriko..." _she thought as she left the building. _"What a strange, cold child you are... Just like your mother. No doubt just like your father. Do you have love for either of them? Somehow I think not. And somehow, I think they hold little love for you as well._

_"Poor bird girl. Such a lonely cage you live in..."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

So I've been playing this game called Red Ninja—the story's not too great, the camera angles are a mother, and the controls, well... It's a sneaking game set in the warring states period of Japan, but somehow there is radar. It seems like cheating. Even the characters aren't all that interesting; the heroine, Kurenai, is rather dull, and after the Boss, the secret hero of MGS3, Master Chiyome (who is a woman, by the way) is one hell of a disappointment. The only thing I really like about Red Ninja is the immense satisfaction I get whenever I solve a puzzle: by puzzle, I mean getting from one area to another by a combination of jumps, climbing, and running across and jumping up walls...

Some notes on Toriko and her parents: all three of them have affection problems, so even Toriko, who lived with and cared about her mother for seven years, treats her with extreme caution. Seishi didn't know whether to hate her or love her, so she messed up Toriko by treating her in a similarly schizophrenic way. Sephiroth has no idea how to make a child well adjusted, so he's trying to turn her into him—he turned out alright, didn't he? Sure he did. So yup... There's the rundown. Now on with the story.

And it's kind of an Asian thing not to open presents while the givers are around; if you don't like it, you'll have to fake something convincing, and that could easily blow up in your face. But I have to admit that the nervous anticipation is half the fun...

On a different note, I want to explain something in the last chapter, that whole bit about Sephiroth saying he'd take Toriko to the slums and have her knife someone: he was joking. Or making an empty threat; joke seems to imply mirth, and there's nothing funny about killing. He only said it to stop her from asking that question all the time. Besides, Sephiroth does have a sense of propriety: Toriko's only eleven. He didn't start whacking people until he was fourteen. He'll wait until then to start her on people.

/\/\/\/\/\


	29. Chapter 28

Put Your Lights On

10.12.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Twenty-Eight

/\/\/\/\/\

There was a strange smell that lingered in the air when Sephiroth came home; he couldn't place it, but it reminded him of blood and battle, and of a fierce hatred of humanity he thought he'd locked away when the war had ended, so he could function in a peacetime world without killing everything in sight. Oddly enough, the smell also reminded him of Mako, but tainted and poisoned.

"Toriko?" He called, and Toriko came out of her room. A thin sense of guilt hung over her, and he looked at her curiously. "What happened?"

"We had a visitor," she said, knowing it was useless to conceal information from him; he could just look into her mind. "A female ninja."

Sephiroth's chest tightened in alarm. "Did she hurt you?"

"No."

"Did she take anything?"

"No. Actually, she brought a gift."

Sephiroth's brows shot up. "A gift? From who?"

"Aunt Seishi," she said, while at the same time thinking, _ "Mother." _

Sephiroth frowned. "Aunt Seishi...? Did you open it?"

"No," Toriko said. _ "I'm scared." _

Sephiroth blinked. Toriko blinked back. With a sigh Sephiroth put down his briefcase and took off his suit jacket, tossing it onto the kitchen counter.

"Let's see this gift," he said, closing the door behind him. _ "And why you're so scared of it." _

Toriko went into her room and came out a second later, carrying a five-foot box made of dark Wutaiese wood and inlaid with brass designs. It clunked when she set it on the kitchen counter, indicating some serious weight. Sephiroth resisted the impulse to sneeze; the strange smell was strong around this box, and wartime memories flickered at the edges of his eyes.

"It smells like her," Toriko said quietly. "Faintly, but just enough..."

"What kind of disease did she have?" Sephiroth asked, looking at Toriko.

"We didn't know," Toriko murmured, touching the box. There was an odd tenderness in her fingertips, as though she were caressing fragile skin instead of wood. "But it made her flesh turn black and bubble... She was in much pain. She blamed it on you."

_"She would..." _Sephiroth thought.

"Why are you afraid of something she sent you?" Sephiroth asked.

She shrugged, but her worries came through his mind. _ "Because I'm afraid she'll want me back, and I'm afraid that I'll go. I miss her..." _

_ "She gave you up," _he reminded her. _ "She gave you to the Turks, who gave you to Hojo. She asked for no sign to show that I was the one who actually sent them." _

_ "She was the only one who looked at me with no fear in her eyes," _Toriko whispered. _ "Hate sometimes, and love too, but... At least she did not run away from me." _

_ "She just remained in one place while you went away." _

"Open the box," Sephiroth said. "And exorcise whatever demons are haunting you."

Toriko sighed and flicked open the brass clasps on the box, lifting the hinged lid. Sephiroth's brows shot up in surprise. Inside the box, nestled in a bed of silk cushions, was a twelve-stringed koto.

"Do you know how to play this?" Sephiroth asked, looking down at Toriko.

"I do," she whispered. "Mother played this when..."

_ "When she could no longer service customers." _

Toriko stared at the koto, her hands clasped behind her back as though she were truly afraid to touch it. Sephiroth reached out to take it from the box, but stopped as a wall of objection—Toriko's violent, unspoken objection—seemed to lunge out from the koto, banging against his fingers. Sephiroth looked at Toriko, who was still staring at the instrument.

_"So I'm not supposed to touch this, hmm?" _

_ "You've touched Mother's things too many times already." _

Sephiroth flinched; he really wished she wouldn't say things like that. It made it seem like he was talking to Seishi instead of Toriko...

Toriko took a deep breath and reached into the five-foot box, sticking her fingers between the silk cushioning and the koto to gently lift the instrument out: it would have been heavy for a normal girl, but for Toriko it was merely unwieldy. Sephiroth pushed the empty box back so she had space to set it on the counter. To his surprise, Toriko picked the instrument off the counter and set it on the floor instead, kneeling at one of its ends.

"It's perfectly tuned," he heard her murmur as she touched the strings gently, delicately; Sephiroth wondered how many koto strings she had broken in her childhood before she had learned of her superior strength. Sitting down at the counter, Sephiroth watched as Toriko ran up a simple scale, and then began plucking out one of the most common melodies of Wutai, something called "Red Bridge Tears". Sephiroth had heard it a couple of times when he'd been young, and he'd never much cared for it then. But now—whether an effect of age, or a latent appreciation of music—he found himself listening intently.

_"Maybe it's because Toriko's playing it... I don't know if she's particularly skilled, but she _is _my daughter, and that makes a difference... I feel almost obligated to listen."_

The Oriental twang of the koto strings drew Sephiroth back to a time of his life he preferred not to recall. Back then, he'd been delirious with the joy of being free of Hojo and Shin-Ra, as well as filled with an intense hate for the both of them. The mixture of those two powerful emotions had led him to go berserk in battle, and he'd won his first few promotions on kill record alone. Out of battle, he'd been similarly uncontrollable, and in particular, he'd treated the POW's like shit; so glad not to be on the receiving end for once, and drunk on the sense of power that being an absolute sadist could give, he'd tortured and killed hundreds of Wutaiese prisoners. And the women... Well, they were lucky if all he wanted was sex. Fortunately for the Wutaiese, Sephiroth had learned five years after joining the military that sheer cruelty was not enough for advancement, and he began using his brain instead of his sword to get ahead. Concentrating on promotion gave him less time to hurt people, and eventually he was transferred to Midgar, where he couldn't hurt anyone at all.

Sephiroth's stomach twisted with guilt as he looked at Toriko, so calmly plucking out the melody that was bringing his dark history to the surface. Having been disconnected from his bestial side for about ten years now, it was almost like being hit in the face with a sledgehammer as the memories of his senseless vindictiveness swept over him. Vaguely he wondered if he was getting soft if the things that had made him laugh at eighteen were instead making him uncomfortable at twenty-nine.

_"Maybe I've just grown up..."_

Toriko finished playing and didn't say anything for a long time, leaving her fingers on the thrumming strings. Sephiroth was similarly silent, brooding over the sins of his past.

"I'm out of practice," Toriko said suddenly, and Sephiroth blinked, looking at her. "I'll have to play some more."

Sephiroth almost said no—he didn't like remembering a time when he was so wildly out of control—but stopped himself when he saw the sad, almost tender look on Toriko's face. This was the only link she had right now to her other parent, whom she might never see if she wanted to keep her current life, if she wanted to stay free of Hojo. After all, proving Shicho to be a lie would be incredibly bad PR, and Shin-Ra could easily then fabricate an excuse to have Toriko taken away...

_"And children can't help but miss their mothers..."_

"If you like," Sephiroth said, and Toriko looked up at him. "It'll give you something to do during the day."

Toriko nodded and rose to her feet, picking up the koto. Sephiroth pushed the box towards her and she fit the instrument carefully in, making sure it was securely nestled in its silk-lined bed before closing the lid. Then, picking up the box by the silk cords fixed to its sides, Toriko took the koto back to her room. Sephiroth sighed and leaned against the counter, breathing deeply. The weird smell that he'd first noticed upon entering was stronger now, and he thought he could feel it sinking into his clothes, sticking to his skin like sweat or a persistent embrace...

Seishi's embrace.

Sephiroth rubbed his face as he remembered the fury in her eyes. She'd been one of the few who hadn't screamed at first. She'd been the only one who hadn't screamed at all. Vindictive bastard he'd been, he'd kept at her night after night until she'd passed out from shock and trauma.

_"I really, really hope Toriko doesn't know about that..."_

Luckily, a Wutaiese coalition had captured and then traded a boatload of fresh recruits for their women, so Seishi gone back with the other women after a month with Sephiroth. At that point, she'd been with him twenty-nine days longer than any other woman. He remembered watching her go and simmering with frustration. Seishi had submitted but never surrendered, and it had driven him crazy for weeks afterward.

Now, though, it seemed like an admirable quality, the ability to bend but not break. Sephiroth could admit that he could use a little of that flexibility. He wasn't adjusting to peacetime nearly as well as everyone thought he did, since all he did on his off-days was drive out of Midgar and camp out in the Mythril Mines to kill monsters.

_"I just can't take pleasure in a regular life."_

Maybe raising Toriko would change that. After all, everyone kept telling him how raising a child was a life-altering experience.

_"Maybe she'll alter my life for the better."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

#$&!

This chapter took longer than any other I've worked on so far: two days instead of two hours. I guess the Whee is ending.

And "Red Bridge Tears" is a title I made up; use whatever Oriental music you like for it. In my head, it's a zheng version of the Wutai theme; a (gu)zheng is a Chinese instrument, the one the koto's based off. It has a more solid, beautiful sound, in my opinion: if you've watched Kung Fu Hustle, it's what the blind assassins with freaky claw hands are playing. Haha, Kung Fu Hustle; that is an AWESOME movie. Already I've picked up new Cantonese just by watching it over and over and over.

In the previous chapter, Ardwynna Morrigu pointed out that Nanashi, being Wutaiese/Asian would also know about the don't-open-presents thing. That's true, but I wrote Nanashi asking about it so Toriko could point out the disparity: I think more people would have been confused if Nanashi didn't contest Toriko not opening the box. And yes, J ( ), brass is expensive, but these days Seishi can afford it—she does quite well when not weighed down by a child.

/\/\/\/\/\


	30. Chapter 29

Put Your Lights On

10.14.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Twenty-Nine

/\/\/\/\/\

It was easier than Toriko expected to keep her thoughts hidden from her father: since his survival didn't depend on her mood, he tended to draw judgments from her expressions and body language instead of her actual thoughts—he wasn't in her head nearly as often as she was in his, unobtrusively watching to make sure she wasn't annoying him. Toriko sensed his perturbation over Seishi's gift—more accurately, her scent and the memories it brought him—and felt guilty. She hadn't known her mother's present would bother him so much.

_"Well, he's going to be even more bothered when he finds out that the koto wasn't the only thing she sent me..."_

As soon as Toriko had picked up the koto, she had instinctually known that it was just a little heavier than it was supposed to be; something had been put in the sounding board. In the relative privacy of her room, Toriko slid off a cleverly concealed false bottom and reached in to pull out a slim envelope, made of heavy, soft cloth to muffle the rattling of little objects within. Taking off the fabric, Toriko opened the plain wooden box and looked down at the set of six long, beautiful hairpins her mother had sent to her. Lacquered wood and filigreed metal, they were the extravagant marks of a geisha-in-training, a maiko. They were also covered in poison, which Toriko could tell from the faint but acrid smell emanating from them.

_"These seem more appropriate than a koto..." _Toriko thought, closing the box and wrapping it back in fabric. _"Mother never wanted what happened to her to happen to me..."_

Toriko was not worried about accidentally scratching herself with the poisoned hairpins and dying; firstly, her rapid healing from injury made it seem unlikely that a mere poison would carry her off, and secondly, Seishi had regularly poisoned her food when Toriko had been living with her. This was not to kill her, but instead to give her a tolerance to a wide range of toxins. No doubt she was immune to the one(s?) the hairpins were covered with.

_"Besides, I don't even have hair right now, so I don't even have to worry about that."_

Toriko rewrapped the poisoned hairpins and tucked them under her pillow before standing up and touching the koto again. She could almost see Seishi's hands, bandaged but still nimble, dancing lightly over the strings and coaxing a rippling symphony from the stretched wires.

_"Even sick, Mother was still graceful... I hope I'll have her composure when I get older."_

Toriko looked at herself in the full-length mirror Sephiroth had given to her when he'd formally made the spare room hers; in it, she saw a thin little girl with too-big eyes and a too-small mouth, with both features solemn and unyielding. The flowered handkerchief she wore to cover her still-bald head made her look falsely bright, and Toriko pulled it off. Her hair was beginning to come back, and it coated her scalp now in a dense black fuzz that could still be looked through in the right light. She brushed her hand over her growing hair, wishing it would come back faster. At this age, when she was all awkward joints and skinny young flesh, her hair would be her best feature.

_"I don't plan to be a charmer like Mother used to be, but being attractive never hurts..."_

The foppish designers had left her a wardrobe of fashionable clothes, and on a lark, Toriko began to put them on. Most of them were dresses that were too bright or strangely cut, and none of them flattered her current bald state. Toriko sighed and put on her more comfortable thrift store clothes, again tying her handkerchief over her head.

_"I guess I'll have to wait to become pretty."_

Outside she could hear Sephiroth starting to cook; it was a familiar sound now that she'd been with him for over a week. Cocking her head, she listened to him absently humming "Red Bridge Tears" under his breath. _"Amazing," _Toriko thought wryly. _"He must have the most sensitive hearing of any man being in the world, and he doesn't seem to know he's off-key."_

Toriko walked back to the kitchen and sat at the kitchen counter, resting her face in her hands. "How was work?" She asked.

"Fine," he said. "Tomorrow's my day off."

"That's nice," Toriko said. "What are you going to do?"

"Teach you how to fight."

Toriko blinked, suddenly afraid. Sitting up straight, she said, "I thought we had to wait for the weapons to arrive."

"Martial arts never hurt anybody," he said without looking at her.

_"Unless your opponent happens to be much bigger than you!"_ "Um...Yes, Father."

"We'll be using the roof," he said again. "It's got high walls, so we won't be disturbed or photographed while we're sparring. You've been conditioned pretty well, so you'll be able to go for a few hours...at least."

Toriko repressed a shiver. "Yes, Father."

Sephiroth looked at her over his shoulder. "I won't hurt you," he said again.

Toriko nodded, still frightened. Sephiroth sighed and put down his frying pan, turning completely around to face her. Leaning on the counter, he put his head at about her level, so there was no way she could avoid looking into his emerald-colored eyes.

"Let me revise that statement," he said. "I won't hurt you on purpose, and I'll have Restore materia to take care of you if I do."

Oddly enough, Toriko found that more reassuring. "Yes, Father," she said, nodding and smiling a little bit.

He reached out and patted her on the cheek. She would have flinched, but his touch was feather-light, almost gentle. "That's my girl," he said, and went back to cooking.

_"He really seems to be taking to me," _Toriko thought. _"That's kind of...nice."_

She opened her mouth, the word 'dad' almost falling past her lips—but at the last second she closed it, suddenly afraid. It was entirely possible Sephiroth didn't know how fatherly he was being, how much it meant to her. What if he stopped because she overstepped her bounds?

_"I don't want to lose another parent..."_

Troubled, Toriko leaned her head in her hands again and watched Sephiroth cook. Six feet tall, cabled every inch with muscle and sinew, his hip-length fall of silvery hair only sharpening his image: combined with his eerily perfect features and cold green eyes, Sephiroth seemed to be made of ice. Seishi had often given the same impression.

_"I wonder if they would have gotten along if their circumstances had been different."_ Toriko wondered. She could imagine it faintly, even as Seishi's imprinted memories recoiled. _"They're really a lot alike..._

"I wonder if I'll end up like them; cold to everyone else, having my weaknesses known only to one person. It doesn't seem a bad way to live...until that person betrays your trust."

"Father," she said suddenly. "Did you ever love anybody?"

Sephiroth looked at her. "Define 'love'."

"To feel affection for," Toriko responded. "To feel as though the loss of that person would diminish you. To enjoy their company as you enjoy no one else's."

Sephiroth blinked. "You've thought about this before, haven't you?" 

"Mother liked to debate," Toriko responded.

Sephiroth looked away, thinking deeply. "During the war," he said, poking the vegetable stir-fry he was making. "There was an officer. He was older than me, and I suppose I reminded him of his son or something. He didn't go out of his way to be nice to be, but he didn't have to. He was the only one who didn't look at me with fear in his eyes..."

He stopped and looked at Toriko, who looked back at him in surprise.

"You are rubbing off on me," he thought at her.

"I'm sure the effect is mutual," she said. "What happened to him?" Toriko asked aloud.

"He died," Sephiroth said shortly, and Toriko nodded. She'd expected that. "I was depressed for a while. I didn't really know why until you asked me that question."

Toriko felt touched, oddly enough. "Was he the only one?"

Sephiroth thought some more. "No." He said finally. "There were others."

"Do you like men?" Toriko asked again.

Sephiroth shrugged. "I don't know. But I haven't yet found a woman who holds my interest the same way."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Toriko thought. "You think women are only good for sex." 

She felt him flinch. "Well..." 

"I understand men," Sephiroth said, just a trifle defensive. "I can get along with men. But women..." He sighed and said, "It's annoying when they're always trying to get in your pants. Not that I mind the sex, but sometimes you want something more than a fu—" He stopped himself as he suddenly remembered who he was talking to and quickly changed his sentence. "A tryst."

"I'll remember that," Toriko said, suppressing a smile.

"See that you do," Sephiroth said, looking at her askance. "Real companionship is very hard to find. I'm still looking, myself." In a lighter tone, he said, "Maybe if you start looking now, you'll find one by the time you're my age."

"Is that an order?" Toriko asked, amused.

"An option," he said. "I understand that most fathers worry when their girls start noticing boys, but you're...better-equipped, shall we say, to deal with unwanted male attention."

"I can beat them up?" 

"You can read their minds." 

"That's true," Toriko said. "I also know what rape feels like, so I won't get into those positions." 

Sephiroth squirmed. Toriko felt a little bad for making him uncomfortable, but that was Mother's revenge: never let him forget what he did, just as she never could. Still, Toriko was surprised at how easy it was to make him flinch.

"It's like he's really ashamed of what he did—but that can't be right. He did it so many times! How can he be sorry?"

Sephiroth never squirmed for long. A flash of discomfort, a nanosecond of shame, and he was back to himself. "Actually, charming boys could work out to your advantage... Did you know your mother nearly made a fort self-destruct?"

"Yes," Toriko said, smiling. "She wanted to turn that fort over to Lord Godo, so he'd give her enough money to buy her way out her marriage contract."

Sephiroth blinked. "So she was married?"

"You didn't know?" Toriko asked.

"Well, our relationship wasn't really based on talking."

How very true. "She was married to Lord Shusaku," Toriko said. "He's a minor noble with four wives—three, now, since he kicked Mother out of the house. She curses him daily and tries to think of ways to kill him and take his money, since I'm his legal heir."

Sephiroth blinked. "You are?"

"As far as I know," Toriko said. "That's why he let Mother's pregnancy go through; if I turned out to be a boy, he could claim me as his son and have his line continue, since Mother said a childhood accident rendered him sterile. The other wives were dutiful as far as we know, so Mother was the only one who ended up with child."

Sephiroth perked up at the word 'sterile'. "What kind of childhood accident did Shusaku have?"

"Harvesting," Toriko said, unable to suppress her smirk. "He encountered the wrong end of a sickle."

Sephiroth's expression went flat and though Toriko saw no physical change in his demeanor, she felt his psychic shudder ripple over her mind.

"That's definitely out..." she felt him mutter. "Painful, and besides... I'm not entirely sure it wouldn't regenerate." 

"You could cauterize it," Toriko suggested. She suppressed the urge to burst out laughing as Sephiroth stared at her, his eyes going so wide she could see the whites all around.

"You have no idea what you're suggesting," Sephiroth thought at her, his thoughts awash with horror, disgust, and not a little anger.

Luckily, Toriko was still trying not to laugh, so her mirth blunted some of his furor. "It can't be worse than being stabbed repeatedly between the legs." 

Sephiroth mentally recoiled and very slowly he turned away, not looking at her. Toriko felt her internalized Seishi exult in his discomfort.

"Castration's out, chemicals would be useless..." Sephiroth muttered. "Maybe radiation?" 

"Like the microwave?" Toriko asked, mentally grinning from ear to ear.

Again he shuddered. "No, dear God. Never the microwave." 

Toriko started to shake with the effort of holding her laughter in. "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..." 

"You are an evil child," he thought at her furiously.

"Spawn of an evil parent," she returned, smiling.

"Go to your room." Sephiroth said, glaring over his shoulder. "And don't come out until I call you."

"Yes, Father," Toriko said with a deep bow that was meant to hide her smirking. "As you wish."

"Little sadist..." She heard him mutter as she turned and walked back to her room.

"Are you really that surprised?" Toriko muttered back.

Exasperation and annoyance flickered toward her. "Toriko, you need to decide on a consistent approach toward me. This flipflopping between your mother's viciousness and your own personality is extremely disconcerting." 

"It doesn't seem that weird to me," she replied, surprised. "And who's to say it's all Mother's viciousness? If only you hadn't been my father, then all the hardships I've undergone until now wouldn't have been nearly as bad." 

"It's not my fault your mother got pregnant," Sephiroth snapped, before suddenly realizing what he'd just said. "That is, I didn't intend for her to get pregnant—" 

"You knew what sex did, and you did it anyway," Toriko thought heatedly.

"And I'm taking responsibility for it," he snapped back. "But it's hard to know how to react if the one you're trying to take care of it is always sticking you with knives!" 

"Pardon me for being prickly. Look who I've got for parents." 

Sephiroth's irritation swept over her in a growl. "Are you going to blame everything on us?" 

"Who else can I blame? I didn't ask to be born." Toriko gathered steam, releasing for the first time in her life a slew of resentments and furies she had never been allowed to express. "You could have chosen not to rape Mother. Mother could have aborted me. One of Shusaku's people could have drowned me as a child. Sometimes I'd rather be dead than going through what I must every day, blocking out Mother's memories and my own pains! I've been screwed over since birth by a series of circumstances over which I had no control, so what else can I do but blame!" 

She felt Sephiroth's shock, his stunned silence. What, he didn't think she had emotions?

"I didn't have choices like you!" Toriko thought furiously, tears springing to her eyes. "There was no way I could make myself 'profitable' other than by growing up and making eggs! I had no way out..." 

"But you're out now," Sephiroth said.

"Yes," Toriko replied, calming. "I am. But only as an extension of you." 

"You're a child," he murmured. "It's only natural that you stay in my shadow—under my wing. You're not old enough to be independent yet." 

"You're not listening!" Toriko almost cried. "All my life, I've never been independent! Who's to say I ever will? Always, always, always I will remain in someone's shadow, never allowed to walk alone! If I'm not your daughter, I'll become someone's wife, and then someone's mother! I don't exist without someone else to attach to." 

There was a pause. "Toriko," Sephiroth said quietly. "It's my understanding that parents never let go of their children, no matter how old they get. In that sense, you will never be independent.

"On the other hand, you won't always be linked to me. When you get older, you will be your own person. You don't have to marry, you don't have to have children. Just be patient." 

What an incredibly, undeniably, quintessentially father thing to say. Toriko laughed wetly and swiped the tears from her eyes.

"I'm being silly, aren't I?" She asked him quietly.

"Everyone has their moments," he replied. "You can come out now—dinner's done." 

"Okay." 

Toriko walked out of her room and back to the kitchen, her shoulder brushing the wall as she crept down the corridor to cautiously assess her father's mood. Sephiroth had already set up plates and silverware, and was portioning food on both of them. He looked at her as she came in.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Everyone has their moments," he said again. "Sit."

She did, and they began eating.

"I've got a different idea for tomorrow," Sephiroth said midway through the meal. "Let's go to the park."

"Park?" She asked, looking at him curiously. Briefly she caught images of brilliant green fields and trees. "Why?"

"To be seen," he said. "And also... The weather's supposed to be nice tomorrow. That's very rare for Midgar. We should take advantage of it."

Toriko looked at Sephiroth for a long time, trying to puzzle out what he was thinking. Looking into his thoughts was useless considering that he was thinking just that. Though Toriko knew he really was only thinking of PR and the weather, she couldn't help but feel that he was trying to be...nice.

"Sephiroth...nice. Nice Sephiroth.

"I can't make it work."

Still, she wasn't one to look a gift chocobo in the mouth. "Yes, Father," she said.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I wrote about, umm...self-sterilization in an earlier draft, and usually I cut and paste those unpublished clips because even if they aren't useful, they're still fun to read. Well, that clip I deleted, so I was really pissed that I had to dredge that whole weird bit from memory. It isn't nearly as funny the second time around.

And about Toriko's freakout; I'm not really quite sure where that came from. Even I didn't know she had such a pot of resentment simmering under her skin. I considered deleting that bit to make her more like her spooky self, but then I thought, "I've been trying to display Sephiroth as human; fallible and the like. Why do I balk at doing that with his daughter?" Besides, it's not like her anger's totally unfounded, or can go without explanation...

Those of you who've read "An Unlikely Partnership" will probably notice that I tend to make Sephiroth bat for the other team or at least switch sword hands; sorry, but I think out of everybody in the FFVII cast, he's the one most likely to be gay. From fourteen on, he's been put into situations where there were nothing but men around him, and considering how attachment is a basic human need, it seems quite likely that he'd attach himself to members of the same sex. Besides, we all want people to understand us, and sometimes it seems like our own sex will do it much better than a member of the opposite one ever will.

Projecting into the future, though, I don't think Sephiroth will be getting in any relationships gay or straight; like I said earlier, he's somewhat of a sexless being, and even casual trysts would be hard to accomplish considering he's got a psychic daughter at home...

On a peculiar note, I was hunting for koto pictures for a while before I realized that there's no hollow compartment in that thing; no soundbox, just a curved board. So there's a little pit on the underside of Toriko's instrument just big enough for the hairpins, and it's held in place via magnets, which is why it's slid out, not pulled off. Just so you know.

And J ( ) pointed out that 13-string kotos are more common. I suppose I should go back and change the number, then, but 12-string ones do exist...

/\/\/\/\/\


	31. Chapter 30

Put Your Lights On

10.16.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Thirty

/\/\/\/\/\

Sephiroth remembered the first time he'd been outside with crystal clarity. He'd been fourteen years old, and several men from the military had just taken him into custody. The private's blue uniform had chafed against his skin: until then, Sephiroth had been wearing only soft cotton clothes, enough to keep him covered and anonymous, just another human subject. He'd been rubbing his collar between his fingers in an attempt to soften the cloth when the men had come, and he'd still been rubbing it when they'd gone up the stairs leading to the helipad mounted on the 69th floor. Sephiroth remembered recoiling at the stink of the city when the heliport doors had opened, and then forgetting it entirely as he'd gaped like a yokel up at the boundless sky. He'd always known it was there, but only through the frame of a window.

Toriko had much the same look on her face as they walked through the park. They were too much of a novelty to be approached by the astonished people who were already there, so Sephiroth and his daughter were left alone to stroll in the late summer sunlight, and he could enjoy the look of undisguised wonder on Toriko's face. It was the first time she'd really been outside in four years.

Toriko's legs were shorter than his, and she strolled, which meant that Sephiroth could amble; sinking into an easy, hip-rolling walk he didn't often affect, it gave him the opportunity to enjoy the glory of the late summer day. Though it was undetectable to all but the animals—and perhaps Toriko—Sephiroth could smell the coming crispness of October in the air, and it made him smile. He hated summer with its sticky heat, and the hair-yanking winds of spring drove him insane, but fall and winter were his times, when nature was easily foiled by a thick coat and a space heater.

"In the wintertime," Toriko said softly in Wutaiese. "It would be so cold that doing "business" would be the only way to keep warm."

Sephiroth looked at her sharply, his eyes narrowed. Was she making an oblique commentary on his thoughts or just reminiscing? He waited for her to speak again.

"Are the winters here that cold?" She wondered, looking up at the sky. "I wonder if the snow takes some of the smell out of the air."

Sephiroth also looked up at the sky. "It does," he said. "And before the city crews come through, it covers Midgar in white. That's the time when Midgar looks best."

"You can't see all the soot, ne?" Toriko said with a small smile.

Sephiroth nodded, his lips curling ever so slightly. "And everything is quieter, too."

Toriko nodded, looking at him. "What do you normally do on days like these?"

"I go out of town," Sephiroth said. "I walk around for a while. Then I come back."

"That sounds boring," Toriko said.

Sephiroth shrugged. "War was very exciting. This sort of balances it out."

"It does?" Toriko asked with a slightly arched brow, and Sephiroth wondered if she knew how truly uncomfortable he was in peacetime.

"I...pretend it does," he admitted reluctantly, shoving his hands in his pockets. In black as usual, Sephiroth wore a street version of his combat coat and a dark gray turtleneck untucked over black slacks and boots. They were warm and comfortable, but at that moment Sephiroth wished they were chilly leather and cotton trousers. He also wished he was armed. Ten years of war made him much too wary of quiet. "It's so easy to get bored these days."

Toriko looked at him solemnly. "Is that why you took me on?"

Sephiroth shook his head. "Not really. I just didn't want you...there," he said, suddenly aware of the possibility of Wutaiese-speakers listening in.

_ "Even if I'd been in the middle of another war, I still would have gotten you out." _

He felt Toriko's quiet astonishment, her disbelief. But aloud, she said, "I'm glad you got me."

Sephiroth smiled, one corner of his lips tilting up. Wordlessly he reached out and brushed his gloved knuckles over her cheek, quietly marveling at this strange being that was somehow half of him.

_"I hope she's my better half..."_

Toriko blinked, her green-gray eyes wide with surprise, and looked away, tilting her head so her hair (she was wearing the wig again) fell artfully to hide her expression.

_ "Why do you keep touching my face?" _She thought at him.

_ "I don't know," _he thought, blinking. _ "Do I do it that often?" _

_ "More and more often," _she said, but Sephiroth didn't think she sounded bothered.

_ "Should I stop?" _

Toriko didn't think anything at him. Still not looking, she reached out and took his hand. Her fingers, ungloved but brushed with lace, were small and cool in his leather-clad calm.

Sephiroth's brows rose and he looked first at their hands, and then at Toriko, whose face was still hidden. Brushing over her mind, he winced when he felt an unholy amount of fragility there. Somehow in her twisted little mind, their entire relationship was hinging on whether or not he tolerated the touch of her hand.

So he squeezed her hand lightly and curled his fingers around hers, feeling the delicacy of her small finger bones. A harder squeeze, and her hand would turn to pulp. Yet he hadn't even the impulse to act on the destructive thought; irrationally, he fancied protecting her small hand, her gentle fingers, from all the evil the world would wreak on it.

_ "Are you mucking around in my head?" _Sephiroth thought suddenly, unable to stop from looking Toriko askance.

_ "No, Father," _she said, quite surprised. _ "Is something wrong?" _

_"No, unless you count the fact that I'm actually starting to have fatherly feelings..."_ Sephiroth thought to himself even as he assured Toriko that nothing was amiss. Fatherly feelings were quite disconcerting. Sephiroth wasn't sure how to act when he wanted to protect something instead of destroying it, and besides, weren't they forming a little fast? Toriko had been with him for a little under two weeks now, not nearly enough time for him to figure out whether or not he felt fatherly towards her.

_"And does she feel, well...'daughterly' towards me?"_

It was truly a mysterious and mind-boggling concept, the inexplicable bond between parent and child. Sephiroth wondered what had severed so profound a connection between him and his own parents.

_"I could make an educated guess from my files, but Hojo's hidden those someplace..."_

Sephiroth recalled his early childhood. It was fuzzy, like a camera that hadn't been focused for lack of use, but several features stood out. Sephiroth drifted toward the cable of memories that dealt with his family, or rather, his guesses about his family.

_"When I was very small, I used to think that Hojo had kidnapped me and that somewhere out there, there was a green-eyed man and woman looking for me. Then I grew up and thought that they had to be dead; Hojo would have killed anyone who tried to take me. Then I grew up a little more, and started to think they'd sold me to science; why else would Hojo try to hide their names from me? He must have been afraid of me tracking them down...hurting them... Maybe they were lab techs, or his colleagues..."_

All musing about his parents had been laid aside when he'd gone to war. When all the other fourteen-year-olds wrote home every week and cried for their mothers on their deathbeds, Sephiroth had been outside sparring with the older men and rising through the ranks. He hadn't given much thought to mothers, and father figures had been in plenty...

Toriko's fingers twitched in his and he glanced down to see the double zeroes of her specimen tattoo peeking through the lace covering her hands. As he wrapped his fingers a little tighter around hers to hide the marks from view, Sephiroth suddenly realized why, or at least a part of why, he felt so protective of Toriko.

_"She's Wutaiese and female, but she's like a microcosm of me—my life experiences, my thoughts. God knows I wouldn't want to go through my own life again. I wouldn't inflict it on anybody else, especially not my own daughter. She has to have a better life, if only for my vicarious amusement..."_

Toriko looked up at him then, and Sephiroth was struck by how quietly solemn she looked, how serious, as if the rest of her life weighed on each passing moment, as if one misstep would ruin her forever. Sephiroth wondered if he had ever looked so grave.

_"As if I dared anyone—or pled for no one—to break my trust."_

"What is it, Father?" Toriko asked, tilting her head curiously.

"Nothing," Sephiroth said, and looked ahead. Somewhere, he knew there were people staring at them. He knew some of them had cameras. But Sephiroth didn't really care. As far as he was concerned, he and Toriko were alone.

_"As we always were, and as we always will be. Us strange people have to stick together..."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

What a squishy chapter. I was seriously annoyed while typing this bit, but I can't make myself delete it... Damn.

I've submitted to the Whee again; I've decided now that my future lies in writing video game scripts, not psychology, so screw school! I need to improve my writing skills.

No, serious.

As a result, your constructive criticism will be more important than ever! If you see anything you think I should know about, please let me know. Thank you.

And just so you know... Ardwynna Morrigu ROCKS MY SOCKS. Check this out.

/\

Anchorwoman: And in other news today, General Sephiroth was hospitalized for injuries related to a serious kitchen accident. It seems the General ran into some problems with his microwave while attempting to prepare breakfast. His attempts at repair resulted a severe dose of radiation below the belt.

Anchorman: That's one way to cook his sausage.

Anchorwoman: And his eggs, according to the sources.

Anchorman: Guess it's a good thing he's already got a kid.

/\

That was too awesome not to be shared.

Also, about the paparazzi in the trees: Sephiroth doesn't really care about cameras as long as they don't have flashbulbs and aren't right in his face. Also, this chapter was about Sephiroth and Toriko getting a little closer. They'll have "hunted by the press" moments later.

/\/\/\/\/\


	32. Chapter 31

Put Your Lights On

10.17.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Thirty-One

/\/\/\/\/\

The M37 kicked in Rufus's hands, thumping solidly against his shoulder as he fired. A hundred and fifty yards away, a watermelon-sized target shattered, blasted into chips of wood.

"How do you like the new ammo, Mr. Vice President?" Scarlet asked, tilting her head. Like most of the Executives, she was taller than he was, but took surreptitious pains not to appear that way; here, at the firing range, she was leaning against the wall, putting their heads roughly at the same level. Rufus lowered his gun and looked at her, smiling.

"It's great," he said. "Somehow you've made a buckshot that's accurate within a five-inch radius without any additional recoil; mass-produced, it's going to be deadly. The new standard, I'd say."

Scarlet smiled. It was so nice to have a gun tester she didn't have to pay, as well as one who could get her more money. "You're such a flatterer, Rufus—but you will forward the proposal to your father, won't you?"

"The old man doesn't need to sign off on this," Rufus said. "He trusts my judgment. I'll have a talk with Sephiroth about reissuing the ammo."

Which meant that Peace Enforcement would be handing her a pretty big check soon... Scarlet smirked. There were times when the mini-business arrangement of the Shin-Ra Company was a pain in the rear, but there was nothing quite like seeing the look on Sephiroth's face when he grudgingly put in a request for a specialized firearm or sword. Scarlet found his disdain of her hilarious; she was doing basically the same thing he did, using her body to get ahead. It was just that Sephiroth used his body to kill people, and she teased them to distraction.

_"Under the circumstances, I'm not sure why we don't get along better... Have a more profitable relationship."_

Scarlet wouldn't have minded a more profitable relationship with Sephiroth. He was young, strong, rich, and cold-minded enough not to care if she screwed other men; variety was the spice of life, after all. The fact that he'd come out with a child made things a little difficult, but nothing she couldn't work around.

_"Either I'll get the brat to like me or get him to disregard her."_

There was no doubt in Scarlet's mind that she could bend Sephiroth to her will. There were few men alive who'd successfully resisted her charms and the ones who had had been easily persuaded by gunpoint—or swordpoint, depending on how medieval Scarlet was feeling. The only reason she hadn't pursued Sephiroth up until now was because Rufus was the more profitable of the two.

_"After all, I've been cultivating the boy since he was fifteen..."_

Rufus would never admit it, but Scarlet knew he had learned more about political maneuvering from her than he had his own father. No doubt that was due to the copious amounts of time they'd spent together over the past six years... And very little of it had been spent fucking. Most of the time they'd chatted weapons or politics, current events and gossip. Rufus was quite a delightful young man, and Scarlet could imagine being in love with him if it weren't for how well she'd trained him; just as she used and discarded men, Rufus used and discarded women. However, he did it with such an incredible callousness that Scarlet was starting to get annoyed.

_"I'm pretty powerful, but I don't screw lightly. Rufus, on the other hand, fucks with impunity and there are times when he can be pretty mean about it... Most of the men I cut off don't go away in tears."_

More and more these days, Scarlet wished Rufus would fall for someone and fall hard, just so he'd know the bitterness of heartache at least once and maybe conduct himself a bit more decorously. He had an image to maintain, after all, and the 'playboy' thing only worked for so long.

"So what do you think about Sephiroth?" Rufus said, lowering his gun and grinning.

It took Scarlet a moment to realize what he was talking about. "Oh, that poor, stupid man," she laughed, shaking her head. "He must be really bored in peacetime if raising a kid is something he does for excitement."

Rufus nodded, smirking. "I think he's going to be disappointed, though; Toriko seems like a very calm, serious child."

"Until she grows up," Scarlet said. "Then she'll have him running ragged trying to keep all the boys away from her. She's going to be very beautiful when she gets older, you know."

"She does have that look about her," Rufus agreed. "Her mother must have been lovely too."

Scarlet snorted. "Her mother... Do you believe that load of sap he fed to the media?"

"No," Rufus said, "but he did feed it quite convincingly."

"Even that bit about 'feeling her die'?"

"You know the man. If he told you the sky was pink with purple polka dots, you'd more than likely believe him."

Scarlet had to concede that point. Sephiroth had a very convincing face, or maybe people were too enchanted by his bright green Mako eyes to pay much sense to what he was saying. Even smart people like Rufus and herself could be snookered into believing what Sephiroth said if he just said it the right way.

_"Lucky for all of us, he hasn't decided to take over the Company..."_

"I'm surprised no 'cats have hopped forward claiming to be from her mother's side of the family," Scarlet said, folding her arms under her breasts; she saw Rufus's eyes flick unconsciously downwards for a second before going back to her face. Scarlet liked that about him; unlike most men, he realized that a woman's breasts weren't what did her talking. Usually, anyway.

"From what I understand, the mother's side is abusive," Rufus said. "They don't like the idea of Sephiroth as Toriko's father."

"I can see how that'd stick in their craw. But you'd think they'd try to hold him up for hush money, if nothing else."

Rufus's brows quirked. "Do you really think that'd work? This is Sephiroth we're talking about."

"He may be the greatest soldier of the century, but he's no psychopath," Scarlet said. "He's certainly not stupid. Randomly killing people isn't his thing."

"True, but I have to disagree with you on the stupid thing," Rufus said. "Why would he imperil his reputation like that?"

"Imperil?" Scarlet repeated. "Rufus, have you seen his ratings? It's almost like he won the war again." Pausing, she added, "Still... It's not like he needs the popularity points. He must have some reason for declaring her."

"He's a very private man," Rufus muttered. "And yet he broadcast his daughter's existence to the world. He's essentially invited everyone to look through his windows."

"That does seem out of character for him."

Rufus brushed his red-gold hair out of his eyes. "Before the press conference, when I went over to his apartment, he told me didn't want people thinking he was a pedophile."

Scarlet smirked. "Ah, the travails of the good-looking; they can see you doing _anything._"

Rufus rolled his eyes; he was well aware of his "reputation" as a drug addict and boozer. He was also aware of Scarlet's mostly undeserved reputation as a whore; whores, after all, screwed everyone for money. Scarlet screwed a few people for gain, and she didn't give up anything to do it.

"Have we learned our lessons about barbiturates?" Scarlet asked, needling her young protégé playfully.

"Have we learned our lessons about Valium?" He shot right back.

"What's to learn? I take it to steady my aim," she said innocently, and pointed at his jacket pocket. "As do you."

Rufus looked at his pocket, which held a bottle of small white pills. "Touché," he said finally, and looked back at her. Then, with a grin, he added, "They're for recreational use only."

"Of course," she said, also smiling. "As is the Benzedrine."

"Naturally."

Scarlet wondered if Rufus was on anything right now, but he appeared to be perfectly bright and lucid—which, actually, didn't really mean anything. A lot of the stuff she supplied him with was formulated to make him just that way. Not that he wasn't bright and lucid naturally, but sometimes you just needed a little edge...

"_Or a little softness. Being a Shin-Ra Executive can drive you nuts sometimes..."_

Scarlet was well aware of everyone's little habits. Rufus, of course, took pills. Palmer quite obviously ate. Reeve gambled like a mother: thankfully, he was good at it and Scarlet wouldn't have been surprised if his yearly income was higher than hers; but that was fine, he had a family to take care of. President Shin-Ra enacted very peculiar role-playing fantasies which she'd only had to participate in a few times, thank God. And Sephiroth...

"_Well, I don't quite know what he does, but I'll find out soon enough. He's only hidden it for about four years."_

The possibility that Sephiroth didn't have some sort of vice was laughable and impossible.

"_And when I do find it out, I'm going to milk it for all it's worth..."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Okay, so I'm taking Abnormal Psychology, and the teacher passes out this handout of neurotransmitters. I took a look and started laughing, because I'd just finished playing Metal Gear Solids 1-3, and some of those drug names were really familiar to me. For example, Diazepam, which you take to stop yourself from shaking when sniping and such; it's Valium. That's its commercial name. And Benzedrine, which Snake tells Dr. Naomi to stop giving him because it makes him frisky—that's speed! Amphetamines, I swear! So those drugs being used to make Snake a better soldier made me think that quite logically, Rufus would have them too...

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	33. Happy Halloween!

PYLO Halloween Bonus!

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PYLO (Put Your Lights On) is a fanfiction by kleptomaniac0, which therefore by definition mean that the FFVII characters do not belong to the author and ergo do not garner any profit for said person. If sued, the author will simultaneously freeze and combust. This will result in a local hailstorm of flaming comets. Therefore... Yeah, you get the picture.

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This bit takes place somewhere in the story. That's all I really know. It doesn't fit anywhere in the main plotline, hence the "bonus" in the title. Happy Halloween! Don't get cavities or goblins, okay?

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_ "Are you SURE no one will recognize us?" _

_ "Positive. Trust me, I've been doing this for years." _

Toriko whimpered softly in discomfort and Sephiroth patted her on the shoulder. The two of them were in the grocery store, Sephiroth in his crazy man disguise and Toriko making her debut as the crazy man's daughter. The bottle-blonde wig had been most useful here, as well as a pair of thick, slightly tinted glasses that made her green-gray eyes look brown. Wearing her thrift store clothes, a spotted bandana to cover the glue line from the wig, and the mien of one hunted, Toriko definitely looked the part of a nervous, shifty, crazy man's daughter.

She held onto Sephiroth's coat pocket, which he didn't seem to mind. She would rather have held his hand, but both of them were occupied in opening a foil package of Swedish fish, which would have interested Toriko if she hadn't been silently freaking out about all the people who passed by, looked at the two of them strangely, and walked away whispering.

"Here," he said aloud in Continental, tipping a Swedish fish into his hand and holding it out to her. "Eat it."

"What is it?" She asked, taking the candy and inspecting it. Long and herring-shaped, it appeared to be made of some slightly squishy red substance that smelled rather sweet. Toriko strongly suspected the fish was not natural.

"Food," Sephiroth said, and tipped another fish into his hand. Toriko watched as he bit the head off with relish, chewed, swallowed, and popped the body into his mouth. "You'll like it."

Toriko pointed at the torn bag. "Don't you need to pay for that?"

"They'll scan the bag at the checkout line," Sephiroth said. "Now eat your fish."

Toriko dubiously copied her father. The red stuff was indeed squishy, thickening under her teeth as she bit into it, and it tasted dully like cherries. Toriko chewed the head of the fish slowly, grimacing when it stuck to her teeth.

"You look like a dog that's had peanut butter smeared on the roof of its mouth," Sephiroth commented, smiling.

"It's not bad," she said, swallowing. "Just strange." Putting the rest of the fish in her mouth, Toriko chewed and swallowed.

"Watch this," Sephiroth said, tipping a fish into his hand. Toriko watched, surprised, as he tossed the fish into the air and leaned back, catching it neatly in his mouth. She heard him gulp; apparently, the fish had "swum" downstream.

"I want to try that," Toriko said, smiling. Sephiroth handed her a fish and Toriko tossed it, lining her mouth up with the spinning candy. But something was wrong. She caught it in her mouth all right, but the fish landed sideways instead of head-down, and instead of having it swim neatly down her throat, Toriko suddenly found herself choking. Absently she noted the most extraordinary sounds that squirmed of her blocked throat as she doubled over, clutching at her neck.

"That never happened before," Sephiroth commented even as he began to pat her on the back. The soft taps between her shoulderblades were useless, and Sephiroth seemed to sense this. So he hit her a little harder, perhaps worried by the lack of response, and...

Wham! Toriko plowed headlong into the nearest shelf, her head banging against cans of peaches as her father's unnatural strength worked its magic. Dazedly she was amazed she hadn't knocked the shelf over until she heard a strange creaking noise somewhere below and to her right. She tried to place the sound, but sharp metallic raps on the other side of the shelf distracted her, and Toriko wondered who was dropping cans.

Dropping cans?

"_Oh no,"_ Toriko thought in horror as the shelf fell over in a thundering, indescribable clatter. Cans of peaches and mandarins oranges exploded into the air around her, burying her in a pile of syrupy aluminum that hurt like holy hell when they landed on her back and legs. And she was _still_ choking on the damn fish! Rolling onto her back, Toriko frantically hit her chest as she tried to dislodge the jelly fish.

"Birdy!" Sephiroth waded into the cans, his falsely brown eyes filled with concern. Picking her up, he asked, "Birdy, are you alright?"

"Kkkaakkkllll…" Toriko gagged.

Sephiroth turned her around so her back was to him and put his arms around her, pressing his fist into her solar plexus. Toriko wondered for a moment what he was doing before he suddenly yanked upwards, making her gag again and Toriko thought she had never seen anything so beautiful as the red Swedish fish flying out of her mouth, trailing an arc of glittering spit...

...just before it hit the face of the apoplectic manager glaring furiously at her and her father. He yelled and swiped the fish off in disgust, flinging it to the ground where it was instantly lost in a sea of dented cans.

"You!" He bellowed at Sephiroth, pointing one meaty finger at him. He was a shortish man, but quite stout, and every inch of his flesh-laden frame was jiggling with rage. "I _knew_ you were behind this! You've been nothing but trouble ever since the day you came here, mister!"

Sephiroth just glared. Toriko felt tears pricking at her eyes.

"Scaring the customers, eating food without paying for it—you've really done it now!" The manager ranted. "You and your kid get out _now!_"

Sephiroth again didn't say anything. Putting Toriko down, he dusted off his sleeves in a gesture of utter contempt and nudged one of the fallen cans with a sneer. Grabbing Toriko by the hand, he turned to go, and somehow managed to pull that move off as dramatically as though he'd been in his leather coat. Toriko, though, cramped his style a little. Pulling free of her father's hand, Toriko turned to face the manager, who was fighting to get his breathing under control.

"I'm sorryyyyyy!" She wailed. Toriko hadn't intended to wail, but seeing the mess of silver cans on the floor and having Sephiroth kicked out of his grocery shopping was just too much. She sniffed and barely noticed the tears trickling out of her eyes. "I didn't mean tooooo…"

_ "If you fall to your knees and kowtow," _Sephiroth thought angrily at her, his hand suddenly hard and sharp on her shoulder. _ "I will hurt you." _

For no good reason he waved his hands in Toriko's face and she would have been utterly confused if she hadn't seen the strict pattern behind the hand movements.

_ "Father, are you faking sign language?" _

_ "Of course not. This is MilSign, what the Continental Army uses." _

"Is your father deaf?" The manager asked, frowning deeply.

_ "Say yes," _ Sephiroth said.

"Yes," Toriko repeated. Following his instructions, she sniffled and added, "He can read lips, but most of the time he doesn't know what's going on."

"How long has he been deaf?" The manager wanted to know.

"Eight years," Toriko said. "It happened during the war." Now she saw the manager shifting uncomfortably, guilty at having mistreated a vet. On impulse she added, "His eardrums exploded."

_ "Tori, don't give them unnecessary details," _ Sephiroth admonished. _ "Keep lies as simple as you possibly can, otherwise you'll have a complex net that you won't be able to handle." _

_ "I know, Father. Mother taught me plenty about these things." _ Sniffling—it was so nice to have real tears to work with—Toriko went on, saying, "We're really sorry we're causing trouble." She made her eyes large and tearful, which wasn't that difficult, and smiled inside when the manager began to look uncomfortable.

"Well," he began, trying to save face. "Ah... Um... This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been eating food without paying for it first."

"I was really hungry," Toriko said, lowering her head to capitalize on her wide-eyed look. "I'm sorry..."

_ "Do you really have to keep whining?" _Sephiroth asked, not looking at her. _ "It's grating on my ears." _

_ "And it's shredding his soul," _Toriko said with a smile. _ "I wonder if I can get all our groceries free?" _

_ "...Whine away." _

"Will we have to pay for all this?" Toriko asked, pitching her voice several notes higher and making it wobble. Some concentrated staring brought more tears to her eyes.

"Well..." The manager tried to say yes, but Toriko wrung her hands, looking as pitiable as she possibly could. It was a skill in Wutai that she hadn't used often, but had nonetheless cultivated. You never knew when it might come in handy, like now. Toriko could practically see the manager's heart melting as his vision narrowed to focus solely on her: Sephiroth, standing behind her, had practically ceased to exist. "Well... No..."

"Oh, thank you!" Toriko enthused and cut loose with all the tears that she'd been storing away.

_ "Does that really work?" _Sephiroth wondered.

_ "Yes," _Toriko said happily as the manager turned red with embarrassment and moved quickly to stave off her tears.

"H-hey now," he said, walking up to her and holding his hands out in a pacifying gesture. "Th-there's no need for that!"

Toriko began to wail, just to nail him firmly into his coffin. "Y-you're so niiiice, mister! Thank you soooo muuuuuch!"

_ "…I think I feel my ears bleeding." _

The manager turned as red as the cans of beets on the floor and tried to shush her. Toriko's response was to turn up the volume and start crying so loudly that people in the next aisles peeked over to see what was going on. All at once Sephiroth grabbed her, shoving her face into his chest.

_ "Stop screaming," _he commanded sternly even as he petted her head and made comforting noises.

_ "Yes, Father," _she said, clutching his coat.

"Just come this way," the manager said, sounding really uncomfortable. "We'll, uh... Take care of everything at the register."

Toriko pulled out of Sephiroth's embrace and pointed at the grocery cart. "Should we put these back?" She asked, sniffling a little.

"No, you can bring them," the manager said. "In fact, you can have them free of charge for all the...trouble."

_ "Your mother has trained you well," _Sephiroth said, sounding impressed.

"Thank yooooou!" Toriko cried again, and she felt Sephiroth twitch behind her. The manager made frantic shushing gestures.

"Just come this way," he said, half-turning. "We'll get this all sorted out."

_ "This could only work once, though," _Sephiroth thought at Toriko as they followed the manager to the registers. _ "And not per grocery store." _

_ "Are you sure?. I could get really good at this, Father." _

_ "You could, but I prefer you'd become something better than a supermarket con artist." _

_ "...I suppose." _

_ "Good work today, though." _Sephiroth said as the managers finished a hushed conversation with a cashier and directed the flustered youth to begin packing up the groceries. _ "I'm very proud of you." _

_ "I aim to please." _

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Author's note:

Weird little interlude… Hope it wasn't too stupid! Because these are bonus eps, I'm not worried about characters and stuff like that. They're just supposed to be funny, so I hope you enjoyed!

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	34. Chapter 32

Put Your Lights On

10.19.05

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

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Chapter Thirty-Two

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_ "Toriko." _

_ "Nzugh?" _

_ "Wake up. We're going to spar today." _

Toriko's eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright, her blood chilling. _ "Don't you have work today?" _She thought at him.

_"I have two off-days a week," _Sephiroth thought back. _ "And every other weekend. I don't have to work until Monday." _

_ "Shit," _Toriko thought, and felt Sephiroth chuckle.

_ "We'll spar for an hour and then have breakfast. Don't make me come get you." _

Toriko scrambled out of bed, his thinly veiled threat galvanizing her more effectively than sugar ever could. Admittedly, she wasn't sure he'd hurt her if she didn't get out of bed, but Toriko didn't feel like testing her theory. Going over to her closet, she pulled out a t-shirt and sweat pants that Reeve had thrown in with the rest of her thrift store clothing and tied on a pair of sneakers, which the designers had left her also. After washing her face and brushing her teeth, Toriko looked at her hair again in the mirror; still fuzz. With a sigh she glued on her wig and went to the roof to join her father. The door was locked, but she sensed the path he'd taken and walked out onto the balcony. Tensing, she leapt upwards and landed lightly on the edge of the roof, perching catlike on the high wall that surrounded it. Toriko blinked in surprise; behind the sooty white-gray walls, there was a miniature park on the roof, complete with an artificial stream that trickled from one end of the place to the other. A beatific angel smiled in the corner, and Toriko was only slightly surprised that its carved elegance mirrored her father's features. Sephiroth was by the angel, sitting on the shallow steps that led to the rooftop door, and he was in his leather coat again.

"Next time, get up here faster," Sephiroth said.

"Yes, Father," Toriko said, sliding off the wall. She looked around the park, silently marveling at its manicured beauty. It seemed wrong to fight in this. Sephiroth rose to his feet and walked over to her, his booted feet crumpling the delicate grass. He didn't care. "We'll start off light," he said. "I'll attack you and you'll defend. Got it?"

"But I don't know how," Toriko protested.

Sephiroth gave her a significant look and all of a sudden Toriko realized that she _did_ know how; somehow, Sephiroth was projecting his experience into her head. Along with his knowledge of martial arts came a cool confidence that Toriko had never before experienced.

_"Does he feel like this all the time?" _Toriko wondered even as her body "automatically" slid into a fighting pose. In front of her, Sephiroth brought his open hands up lightly in a rough approximation of what Toriko was doing, his feet shifting slightly. Through his borrowed experience, Toriko recognized that he wasn't going to attack her that much.

_"He's not in the right position to effectively launch an assault against me."_

That conclusion quickly changed as his left hand darted forward and swiped at her face; apparently he was going to slap her today, which would hurt considerably but not really injure her. Toriko threw up her arm in a block and smiled when Sephiroth's fingers tapped against her arm.

_"That wasn't so hard," _she thought the split second before Sephiroth's second strike, launched a bare moment after the first, whacked against the side of her face. Toriko staggered, thrown off-balance by the blunt force.

_"Well, at least it doesn't hurt... He pulled back just before hitting me."_

Toriko yelped as Sephiroth almost casually kicked out at her, his shin swiping her feet out from under her. She fell ungraciously onto her behind, the confidence poofing into thin air.

_"So I know _what _to do, I just can't make myself do it."_

She froze as Sephiroth advanced, his bone-cracking hands flexing slightly.

_ "What are you doing?" _He asked scornfully. _ "That's no defense." _

Toriko scrambled onto her feet and sprang away as Sephiroth stepped in the place where her head would have been. There was a horrible implacability in his ice green eyes as he turned to look at her, the early morning light catching his hair and turning it red-gold.

_"The Demon..." _Toriko couldn't stop from thinking.

_ "Come on," _ he said, and lunged at her. He was terrifying. Even in mock combat, his green eyes narrowed and began to glaze with a hellish light, the feline pupils so narrow that they nearly disappeared. The leather coat he wore flapped around him like a pair of wings, and the strong lines of his arms and legs were spelled in the gleam of his clothes.

_"I'm going to die,"_ Toriko thought.

Terror overtook her then and she went as rigid as a board, her eyes fuzzing out of focus as Seishi's memories took the opportunity to come crowding in. She barely felt Sephiroth's palm hit her chest, similarly felt little when she flew across the yard and whacked her head on the stairs. Sephiroth frowned and trotted over to her, standing over her as a blurry black and white shape.

_ "This is an odd way to show your reluctance to fight." _He thought as he looked down at her. _ "Get up." _

_ "I don't think I can," _ Toriko whispered.

_ "Why not?" _

She reached behind her terror and pushed, showing the plethora of memories and impressions she had formed of him in her early years; terrifying, bloody, and homicidal. Toriko thought she saw him flinch.

"Get up," he said aloud, and dropped to his knees by her, taking her by the shoulders. Toriko clenched her teeth to keep from screaming. "Get up, damn it. I told you, I wouldn't hurt you on purpose."

Toriko's cheek still stung from the slap he'd given her and her breastbone ached from the palm-strike. By 'hurt', he meant obviously 'incapacitate'.

With an aggravated sigh, Sephiroth pulled her into a sitting position and looked into her eyes. The bright green fires had faded to their usual emerald smolder and as his pupils began to widen, making him look more normal, Toriko's terror receded. "I'm trying to teach you how to fight so you won't be afraid all the time," Sephiroth said. "Do you understand?"

Toriko nodded, her teeth chattering too much for a response.

He brushed her cheek lightly, and one of Seishi's memories made her flinch from a touch she usually liked. A flash of consternation went across Sephiroth's eyes.

_ "Damn it, Seishi..." _she heard him growling. _ "You've really fucked her up..." _

_ "She didn't mean to," _Toriko said, feeling obligated to defend her mother.

_ "Why did she keep dwelling on it?" _Sephiroth wanted to know, brushing Toriko's cheek again. There was something perilously close to anger in his bright green eyes, something that made them flicker like lanterns. Strangely, that did not make Toriko afraid. She wondered why as he added, _ "Why did she keep thinking about it?" _

_ "I think she kept poking her wound so it would bleed and heal cleanly," _Toriko replied. Steeling her courage, she reached out and touched her father's face, her fingertips fluttering over the lean plane of his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but did not pull away. Surprisingly, his skin was soft and smooth, almost as though he'd been born yesterday.

_"That's not something I'd ever say to him, but..."_

_ "Perpetually bleeding wounds weaken you," _Sephiroth said.

_ "Like festering?" _Toriko wondered. Leaning her head against his hand—it was the left, the one that bore the tattoo—she looked into his eyes and thought, _ "Like yours?" _

Sephiroth's expression narrowed and he rose to his feet, his gloved fingers brushing over her cheekbone before he let his hands fall flat at his sides. _ "My wounds do not fester," _he said shortly.

_ "You clean them and hope they heal on their own," _ Toriko said, looking up at him. _ "You don't think about them after the initial injury, right?" _

_ "There's no point," _he said harshly. _ "What goes on in your head only helps you so far. Philosophizing about the ins and outs of your actions is nothing but mental masturbation." _

_ "That's not entirely a bad thing," _Toriko said, quoting her mother. _ "But the Continental people have such a stigma against it." _

Sephiroth stared at her. _ "Am I talking to you," _he said finally. _ "Or your mother?" _

_ "Mother's half of me," _Toriko replied, tilting her head. _ "So it can be argued you're talking to both. I'm also half of you, so it can be said that you're talking to yourself as well." _

She saw him try to hide his unwilling smile by rubbing his mouth and looking off to the side. _ "And we all know what that makes a person…" _

_ "If they do it out loud, anyway," _ Toriko quipped.

Sephiroth chuckled. When he was purely amused, it was a deep, warm sound that made Toriko feel gushy inside. Her self-worth shot up through the roof whenever she made her father smile.

_"It's not something he seems to do very often... Which is sad, because it's a nice smile. Not like Mother's, which always had a little bitterness in it..."_

"Let's try a different way," he said, looking back at her. "Why don't you attack me?"

"I don't think I can do that," she said, looking at him through her eyelashes. _ "I'm afraid of retaliation." _

Sephiroth sighed. _ "What am I supposed to do with you, then? I can't stick you in a class with the other trainees..." _

_ "Why not?" _

She could feel him about to object, but then pause, considering deeply. _ "Why not?" _He repeated thoughtfully. _ "Would you rather learn in a class?" _

_ "It's not that," _she said. The nice thing about being connected mentally was that feelings were exchanged instead of words, so things she would be too afraid to say aloud could instead be communicated through thought, and somehow by that, be rendered inoffensive. _ "It's just that I don't want to learn from you. You scare me too much." _

_ "A formidable reputation apparently has its drawbacks..." _Sephiroth muttered. _ "I never intended for you to be so afraid of me." _

Toriko wanted to say it wasn't his fault, but they both knew it was. If Sephiroth hadn't raped Seishi, she wouldn't have formed such vivid, terrifying memories. If Sephiroth hadn't been Toriko's father, she wouldn't have had the abilities to glean those memories and experience them. Still...

_ "I know," _Toriko said. _ "But I'm not scared of you most of the time." _

_ "That counts for something, I suppose." _ Sephiroth thought, looking at her askance. _ "I doubt we'll get much sparring done today. Do you want to go out of town?" _

_ "Out of town?" _Toriko repeated, surprised.

_ "We'll go to the grass plains outside of Midgar," _he said. _ "They're nice." _

She caught an impression of a tent and a fire. _ "Are we going to camp out?" _

_ "We could," _he said. _ "Do you want to?" _

Toriko thought about it. _ "It would be nice," _ she said finally, _ "to get away from the city smell." _

Sephiroth smiled. _ "That it would," _he agreed. _ "I'll go shopping to pick up some things. You prepare rations, alright?" _

_ "Alright," _Toriko said, smiling.

_ "We'll leave in the afternoon," _ he said. _ "The roads should be suitably clear around then." _

_ "Clear for what?" _Toriko asked.

Sephiroth's smile spread until it turned into a bright full-fledged grin of amusement. _ "Why... My motorcycle, of course." _

Toriko stared. _ "Your what!_" 

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

In an earlier draft, Toriko had more spine. She eventually started counterattacking after Sephiroth had slapped her around enough times, which made him stop and tell her that she'd learned her lesson: the best defense is a great offense. However, Toriko's not supposed to be brave at this point. She doesn't get brave for a while.

/\/\/\/\/\


	35. Chapter 33

Put Your Lights On

10.19.05

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

Chapter Thirty-Three

During the Materia War, the Wutaiese Chocobo Cavalry had been the terror of the Continental infantry, who'd run in panic from the steel- and mail-clad birds. Nobody wanted to be trampled beneath a third-ton of overgrown chicken, especially ones that could rend the flesh from a man's bones with sharpened beak and claws. That was to say nothing of the cavalrymen themselves, who were freakishly strong, armed with six-foot swords, and could leave a trail of headless bodies behind them with a well-timed swing.

The first thing Sephiroth had done as a young soldier was to get his hands on one of those six-foot swords: not as hard as it sounded, since cavalry riders did die and drop their weapons on the ground. Leaving a trail of headless bodies was the next thing on his list, but somewhat harder to accomplish since he lacked the speed and bulk to cut a swathe through the enemy: people naturally made way for an armored chocobo, and that gave the cavalrymen plenty of space to swing their nodachis. For a while, cutting crop circles through the Wutaiese forces had been enough, but bloody-minded teen that he'd been, Sephiroth was ever figuring out ways to kill more people more efficiently.

But someone more inventive than he—an older soldier, a messenger—had come up with the idea of using motorcycles. Sephiroth had been with him, a fifteen-year-old lieutenant, when they'd been guarding a convoy from a southern base to an eastern one. Nasty country there: scorched bare from spellfire and saturated with blood, Sephiroth remembered one of his teammates comparing the place to the Valley of Death. Sephiroth remembered agreeing, because tall cliffs hedged them in on either side, making their transport route a perfect target to attack...

Which the Wutaiese had. Armored chocobos, infinitely more sure-footed on uneven ground, had come barreling over the sides and begun wreaking havoc in the convoy. Sephiroth had been forced to fall back on his shorter sword, his standard-issue weapon, in the tight confines of the space. Crowded in by the chocobos and the weight of their own bodies, the Continental soldiers had been steadily, efficiently massacred. That was when the messenger had arrived.

He'd been seated on a motorcycle, one of the heavy-duty, gas-guzzling models that could outstrip a chocobo and even resist lightning magic. Due to their high cost of production, only a couple hundred had been made and they were used to carry messengers or sometimes arms from place to place. That motorcycle had been carrying both, and Sephiroth remembered the guttural roar of the engine as the messenger had revved down the nearly vertical sides of the cliff, swung his machine around, and rammed it into the nearest chocobo.

A third-ton of bird-meat was formidable, but tended to break when hit with a half-ton of metal going nearly sixty miles an hour. As Sephiroth and his embattled comrades had gaped in awe, the messenger backed up in a squeal of tires and rammed his machine into another bird. That one had gone down messily in a spray of blood and gore and a long, eerie shriek that ended when the motorcycle's treads crushed its neck. A third bird died when it tried to charge the motorcycle and got its head lopped off when the rider charged back and swung his Buster Sword at the base of the chocobo's neck. The chocobo's head and neck had gone flying, as well of half its rider, and both bodies had crashed to the ground, twitching and spurting out great fountains of blood.

The other chocobos had panicked then, and despite their riders' curses and commands had run away shrieking, flapping their stubby wings as though they were trying to fly. The unharmed messenger had wiped his sword clean on the grass and sheathed it on the side of the cycle. Looking at the battered convoy, he'd asked, "Where are you going? I'll take you there."

Fourteen years later, Sephiroth had a motorcycle of his own, tuned to his specifications, and riding it was one of the few joys in his peacetime life.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" He heard someone swear as he cut right in front of their car, veering into the narrow space between it and the car in front of it to get into the next lane. Sephiroth grinned. He loved going through traffic. Weaving through cars and panicking drivers was almost as exhilarating as battle, complete with people swearing at him and threatening to rip his guts out.

_"If they knew who I was, though, they wouldn't dare say anything..."_

But he'd stuffed his hair into a helmet with an opaque visor and wore a close-fitting leather jacket that wouldn't catch the wind, so Sephiroth was no different from the hundreds of other motorcyclists on the road. Well, a little different; most riders tended to have their passengers sit behind them. Toriko sat in front, pressed against the seat as Sephiroth leaned over her, shielding her from accidents, the wind, and any paparazzo with a high-spec camera. He hadn't had a second helmet, so Toriko's eyes were shut tight and one hand was cupped over her nose and mouth to help her breathe.

_ "Are you having fun?" _He asked as he zoomed through traffic. Barely audible over the roar of the engine and traffic, Sephiroth heard Toriko whimper.

_ "This is scary," _she wailed piteously.

_ "Open your eyes," _he said. _ "It's much more fun that way." _

_ "If I open my eyes, I'll see the road rushing beneath me." _

_ "Then look up." _

He felt her head brushing against his chest as she shook it in a vigorous "no". Sephiroth chuckled, and then noticed that the car up in front of them was coming up pretty fast.

_"Can't get distracted even for a moment,"_ he thought bemusedly and jerked hard to the left. Through the thin fabric of his pants he almost could feel the road scraping against his knee, flaying fragile skin and bone—almost. A second later Sephiroth was in the next lane, unimpeded, and he swung the motorcycle upright. Toriko was clutching the motorcycle with both hands now, and apparently her terror had gone beyond the point of sound: she was no longer whimpering.

_ "I'll slow down once we get out of the city," _ he said, glancing down at her. _ "Alright?" _ Nothing but pure terror answered him. Sephiroth sighed. _ "Tori, our reaction times are much better than other people's. If it takes them one second to notice something, we see it in one-tenth of a second and have already countered it. This is nothing." _

To add to that image, he projected some of his fearlessness onto her, the exhilaration he felt while riding. In a world without struggle, without teeth, riding a motorcycle through busy traffic set his blood pumping like little else could. The pervasive stink of Midgar vanished in the rushing wind, as did all the clinging obligations of peacetime. When he rode the motorcycle, nothing could catch him—no obligation, no bad memories, no bogeymen from the past.

Toriko's head brushed against his chest as she peeked up, her eyes squinted against the wind.

_ "Maybe it's a little fun," _she conceded.

_ "That's my girl," _he said with a smile.

That was the way they rode until the exit for "Out of Midgar" came up: "Out of Midgar" was as specific as the sign got because due to monsters roving the plains, roads were hard and pretty useless to maintain: there were no paved roads that led to Kalm or any other city. For fun's sake, Sephiroth zoomed across four lanes of traffic and cut in front of a van to just barely get into the tunnel in time. Toriko heard the screams and curses as clearly as he did.

_"What if you cause an accident?" _Toriko wanted to know.

_ "Then I lose points." _

_ "Points?" _

It took Sephiroth quite a while to explain the peculiar point system he used when running through traffic: mental conversations didn't usually take long, but Sephiroth still had to concentrate on dodging the cars that were going through the "Out of Midgar" tunnel. As his eyes adjusted to the white-blue lights lining the tunnel, Sephiroth chuckled when he noticed how thick the cars were becoming.

_ "Hold on tight," _he said to Toriko. _ "We going to need a lot of speed for this." _

Toriko sensed what he was about to do and shut her eyes again. _ "Shit." _

Sephiroth chuckled again. Somehow, it was always funny when Toriko swore. It was like seeing a kitten hiss at a mastiff.

_ "Here we go," _ he said to prompt her, and jerked a hard left. The motorcycle, built for speed over anything else, sputtered as he guided it onto the curving oblong wall.

_ "Shitohshitohshitohshit..." _

_ "Not done yet," _he said, grinning, and Toriko wailed—actually, physically wailed—as he swung the motorcycle onto the tunnel wall. Another well-guided jerk and they were upside-down, blazing over the pedestrian cars that pondered beneath them. _ "We're not going to fall," _he told her. _ "We're going much too fast." _

_ "But how will we get down?" _Toriko cried.

_ "Two ways," _Sephiroth said, suppressing a mental grin. _ "The easy way or the hard way." _

_ "Easy for you or easy for me?" _Toriko asked suspiciously: how marvelously sharp she was! Sephiroth laughed.

_ "It doesn't matter," _he said. _ "The exit's coming up too quickly for us to take the hard way anyway." _

The hard way was swinging the motorcycle down the tunnel wall and back onto the road; passing cars and trucks made this a difficult issue, as well as the service doors that pockmarked the side: they grew more frequent toward the exit, probably due to the high frequency of monster attacks in that area. The easy way of getting off the ceiling and into the open air was, well...

As the tunnel's end rushed up, Sephiroth shoved down on the motorcycle and sent the machine spinning upwards, almost whirling it out of the tunnel. Toriko screamed as Sephiroth jerked the machine upright, aiming the tires back toward the ground.

_ "Toriko, we're going to hit the ground very hard," _he said. _ "If you lie flat like that, you're going to hurt yourself." _

_ "So what should I do?" _ She shrieked at him, nearly incomprehensible in her terror.

_ "Stand up," _he said, _ "and let your legs take the shock." _

He felt Toriko struggling. _ "My muscles have locked!" _

Great. Sephiroth took his right hand off the handlebar and wrapped his arm around Toriko's waist, his hand sliding between the seat and her stomach. Prying her off the cycle—because her muscles _had_ locked; she'd been that terrified—Sephiroth held her to him as he half-stood, his knees bent for the impact.

_ "Three... Two... One..." _

The motorcycle banged to earth in an impressive cloud of dust and roaring metallic crash that made Sephiroth's teeth chatter. Toriko's scream broke off and then died entirely as she started coughing from the explosive dust that got into her nose and mouth.

_ "We'll get you a helmet," _Sephiroth said, letting go of her to take the handlebars again. Dropping one foot to the ground, Sephiroth leaned right to make a sharp turn into the grasslands. With a guttural roar, the motorcycle kicked off and went speeding across the dusty plains of Midgar, a fraction slower than it had been going in the city.

_ "It'll take about an hour to get to the plains," _he said. _ "Then we can camp out." _

_ "Yes…" _Toriko's mental voice was shivering, reflecting mixed relief and fear. _ "As you wish, Father..." _

Author's note:

Not a very exciting chapter, in my opinion, but I wanted to put the motorcycle thing in... I mean, the SHM ride 'em, Cloud has one, and we know Zack can maneuver one too, so doesn't it seem natural that Sephiroth, a top SOLDIER, would also know his way around motorcycles?

To be honest, I enjoyed the long expository vignette in the beginning much more than the Sephiroth-plays-with-traffic bit. It explains how Sephiroth got the Masamune—kind of—and where the whole military fascination with bikes came from. Sorry about all the chocobo gore: it just kinda got in there somehow. And on a random note, is there anybody else out there who's sad that the Final Fantasy chocobos no longer say "Wark"? They say "Kweh" instead, which, I don't know... Sounds wussier. Bring back the Wark! The Wark! And the Whoo-he-hoo.

Thanks so much to everyone who sent me links, lyrics, and everything Sairin: Kasa Tsubasa no Tenshi/Advent: One-Winged Angel related! I'm enjoying the music so much, it's inspiring me to draw! As promised, it'll be a Safer Sephiroth piece, but we then have two options for distribution: send e-mails and attach it, or someone hosts the file? In the case of the latter, are there any takers? 


	36. Chapter 34

Put Your Lights On

10.19.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Thirty-Four

/\/\/\/\/\

"Over here!" Zack yelled, waving his arms. "I'm open, I'm open!"

"Not for long, you're not!" Fenwick shouted, tackling him.

It was a lovely autumn day, and the Seventh was amusing itself by playing basketball. Not regular basketball—they were SOLDIERS, after all, and one of the side effects of becoming one of that esteemed company included increased aggression. This was full-contact basketball, one of the most violent games the SOLDIERS could play aside from hockey and lacrosse—the sticks in both games lent themselves to incredible abuses. Punching, kicking, and tackling were all allowed in the SOLDIER versions of games; biting, however, was not, and neither were eye pokes, fishhooks, and below-the-belt hits. Zack grunted as Fenwick tackled him into the asphalt, banging his head against the blacktop.

"You okay?" Fenwick asked, looking at him.

"Yeah, I'm good," Zack said, rubbing his head. Flinging himself onto his back, Zack rammed Fenwick's head into the asphalt and the shorter man yelped, letting go of him at once. As Zack jumped to his feet, he asked, "You okay?"

"Fine," Fenwick grumbled.

"Zack!" Dulles, his teammate, shouted. "Heads up!"

"Yes, sir!" Zack whirled around and leapt into the air, catching the basketball in one hand. Spinning, he shouted, "Dorian!" and hurled the ball.

SOLDIER basketball was always sudden death; anything longer awakened the drive that led SOLDIERS to kill, and there weren't so many Phoenix Downs, Revive materias, and SOLDIERS to spare that this was acceptable. Dorian caught the ball, ducked under an opponent's arm, and tossed the ball for a perfect 3-point shot.

"Woot!" Dorian threw his fist in the air.

"Will you stop with that chocobo noise?" Shouell, a member of the losing team, said.

"What, woot?" Dorian asked, looking at him. "What'd you rather I say? Booya?"

"How about 'huah'?" Zack suggested.

"I like it," Dulles, the third member of Zack's team, said.

"Huah!" The three of them yelled, throwing their fists in the air.

Fenwick scowled. "One more round," he said. His different-colored eyes, one blue and the other gray, glittered like gemstones when he was annoyed or angry.

"Later," Dulles said. He was the leader of the Seventh when they weren't playing basketball. "Let's get some chow."

"In the mess or the city?" Adrian, Fenwick's teammate, asked. Adrian was tall, dark, but unfortunately not handsome; he had a very ordinary-looking face, and even a SOLDIER'S glowing eyes didn't make him remarkable.

Dulles shrugged. "Whatever you like. Just don't get in trouble."

"City it is," Zack said, rubbing his hands and grinning.

Yard, the sixth SOLDIER on the court, laughed. He had a glass eye that never seemed to look the right way. "You're going to that café again, aren't you? I've gotta say, that waitress is a cutie."

Zack pouted. "Can't I go anywhere without you guys thinking I'm picking up a girl?"

"Nope," said his teammates, or general variants thereof.

"But that's fine. As long as you're not First Class, you can mess with anyone you like," Dulles said, waving his hand for emphasis.

"What's wrong with First Class?" Zack asked, frowning.

"The increased strength," Dulles replied. "You remember how it was going from normal to third, right? And third to second?"

"I remember," Zack said a nod. "I wasn't allowed in action for a while because I had to get a grip on the upped strength and stuff."

"That's right," Dulles said. "And it's the same with the First Class SOLDIERS too. The only problem with them is that their strength is much, much higher than you can imagine."

"Like picking up cars?" Zack asked skeptically.

"One-handed," Fenwick said seriously. "And throwing them."

"That's assuming they get a good grip and don't break anything off," Adrian put in.

"The point is that if a First Class SOLDIER'S not real careful, he's gonna hurt someone," Dulles said. "Enemies, fine. Friends, no. And lovers..."

"That's best left to the imagination," Yard said solemnly.

Zack winced. "So... What? They're all celibate?"

"Well, no..." Dorian said slowly, looking off to the side. "They do get it on, just... Well... With people strong enough to take it."

It took Zack a moment to figure out what Dorian was saying. When he did, the black-haired youth started violently, yelping, "You mean they're all—"

"Some of 'em are for sure," Dulles said quickly. "The others, well..."

Adrian wordlessly made a ring of his right hand and shook it lightly in the air, a well-known sign for masturbation.

"Yeah," Fenwick said, pointing at his taller comrade.

Zack shuddered. "No sex... No wonder you guys don't want to be promoted."

Dulles and the guys laughed. "It's not only that," Dorian said. "There's a bunch of weird things that can happen to a guy if The Process doesn't agree with him."

The Process—capital T, capital P—was the period of time a guy spent in the care of the Military Science department in order to go from man to SOLDIER, from third to second class, and so on. Contrary to what the public believed, it was not an easy shot in the arm and hey, I'm Superman: The Process took anywhere from three to six months, several weeks of which a guy lay comatose in a Mako-filled tube while weird (and best left unknown) substances were dripped into his system. It felt and worked like a ground-up rebuild: SOLDIERS came out better, stronger, and smarter than when they'd come in. Still, Zack had heard stories about SOLDIERS gone wrong.

"What kind of weird things?" Zack asked, morbidly curious.

"A freaky disease," Adrian said. "Your skin turns black and starts melting."

"Then your limbs fall off," Fenwick said.

"And other things too," Dorian added with a shudder.

"You could go sterile," Shouell continued. "Or turn into a woman."

"With ginormous breasts," Yard said seriously.

"Or you could grow extra limbs," Dulles said thoughtfully.

Zack frowned. "Okay, now you guys are just messing with me."

The five SOLDIERS laughed. "Well, sure," Dulles said with a grin. "You're the newbie. If we're not making you wash our socks or run laps around the Garrison, we're filling your head with flies."

"Flies?" Adrian repeated, a brow rising.

"Don't you mean lies?" Yard asked.

"I meant 'nonsense'," Dulles said a bit peevishly. "Garbage."

"Why didn't you just say it, then?" Dorian asked, grinning.

"Don't you ignorant fucks know about alliteration?" Dulles asked, looking around. "The poetry of language?"

"Methinks the captain has turned fag on us," Shouell said, and ducked, laughing, as Dulles swiped at him.

"Verily," Fenwick added, and leapt back as Dulles swung at him too.

Just then, Zack heard a strange noise. It roared by the Garrison on the raised highway that surrounded Midgar, starting off low and quiet and then building to a VREEEEHHHR that made Zack wince.

"And there goes the General," Dulles said, nodding in the direction of the highway.

"What?" Zack asked, looking at him.

"That's the sound his bike makes," Yard said.

"When he's flooring it, which is always," Dorian said, nodding knowingly.

Zack's eyebrows shot up. "He's got his own bike?"

"Hell yeah," Dulles said. "Loves that thing. Rides it every chance he gets."

"Why?" Fenwick asked, looking at him. "You look surprised."

"Well..." Zack gestured vaguely at his head. "You know—he's First Class, right? Doesn't that mean he's got really sensitive ears?"

"Sure," Dulles said. "But he makes an exception for the bike."

"And it's not as loud as the other ones out there," Yard said. "Believe me. During the war I used to run messages, and them suckers could knock you deaf after one ride."

"Where does he go?" Zack asked, looking at Dulles.

Dulles shrugged. "Anywhere. We don't ask and he don't tell. S'been like that for about eight years now."

"Eight?"

Dulles nodded. "Most of us in the Seventh, we were with him during the war. He shot right past us in the ranks, but for some reason he remembered us and stuck us together in the unit."

"Not that we mind," Adrian said.

"We're his crew," Dorian said with a grin.

"So that's why we got called for monster hunting?" Zack asked, frowning. "And to guard his place?"

"Yeah," Dulles said with a nod. "He likes us, trusts us—and we don't get up in his face about his age or experience like the First Class guys do."

"What?" Zack exclaimed, his eyes widening. "What!"

"It's hard for guys to make First Class," Dulles said. "And during the war, a lot of them gave the General a buncha flak for being so young—he was First-Class and already a brigadier general when he was eighteen, you know."

"They were resentful," Adrian said. "For the longest time, they were, as a whole, the shit. Then the General came along and..."

"I can see how that might bother them," Zack admitted.

Dulles nodded. "Didn't help that he wasn't a suckup or anything: most of the time, he acted like he was already their boss or at least as good as them. But I think he knew being friendly wouldn't have helped. They just hated his guts the moment they laid eyes on him.

"That's the older generation of First Classers, though. The younger ones, the guys promoted during and after the war, they love him to pieces. Most of them got to where they were on his recommendation, and he was pretty nice to 'em."

Something occurred to Zack. "Is the General...you know?"

Dulles frowned, apparently not understanding, but Adrian caught on quick. "Naw," he said, shaking his head. "He likes the ladies."

"Okay," Zack said, inexplicably relieved.

"I know," Yard said, grinning and nodding in understanding. "Sure looks like it, don't he?"

"He'd be a creepy fag," Shouell mused aloud. "What with that bondage gear he struts around in all the time..."

As the older SOLDIERS laughed, Zack said, "So that's not what he's supposed to wear?"

"Nope," Dulles said. "He's not supposed to have his hair long either, but he's kind of in a position to do where he likes with no one getting in his face about it."

"I've always wondered why he's had it that long," Adrian said, frowning. "During the war, it was the same thing, and whenever a stiff breeze came up, he'd be all like—" Adrian started swatting at the empty air, a remarkably accurate expression of the General's disgust on his face. "Except more so, you know?"

"No way," Zack said, unable to stop from grinning.

"Adrian, you don't remember?" Dorian said, tilting his head. "He started braiding it."

"That's the only man I ever saw who could carry off a Junonese braid," Dulles said, nodding.

"That thing was a freakin' weapon," Yard said fervently. "He'd whip around real fast in battle, right?"

"Oh yeah!" Adrian exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "And that thing—"

"Wham!" Dulles hit his cheek, his head snapping to the side. "I swear, that's the reason nobody ever tried to nail him from the back."

"Prehensile hair," Dorian said sagely.

"Like a tentacle from his head," Shouell agreed.

Zack looked at his five companions, blinking in mixed surprise and envy. Everyone in the world admired Sephiroth, practically worshiped him, and yet here were the men of the Seventh, joking about him and reminiscing about him as if he were just one of the guys.

_"But they haven't said his name yet... Always 'the General this' and 'the General that': I guess there's still some distance after all..."_

"So, chow." Yard said, looking at Zack. "We going or what?"

"Man, I was ready ten minutes ago," Zack said, grinning. "Let's mosey."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I was looking over this and I noticed that I'm really spare on the physical descriptions of the Seventh: sorry about that. I'll try to work in some more details later. I might go back and rework ch. 15 to include some names. :sigh: This is going to suck just a little bit, because there's 20 SOLDIERS in the Seventh (though I'm considering changing that too) and they all know each other and Sephiroth pretty well, which means they all need a fair amount of detail... Dang! And yes, Adrian is the messenger that was on the motorcycle in the previous chapter. I kept his name out of it to give it a more memory-like quality, however, and also because I felt it was an unnecessary detail since I was talking about the bike, not the person on it.

Thanks so much to everyone who sent me links and lyrics; it's just awesome, the feedback I get back from you guys. I love posting on because everyone who reads and reviews makes it just a warm, comfortable place to be. Thanks to everyone who reads this strange, silly story of mine, and double thanks to everyone who reviews. Someday when I get a website of my own, I can fully express my gratitude.

I imagine you guys will have questions for me. Lay them on me, I'll answer them in the next A/N.

/\/\/\/\/\


	37. Chapter 35

Put Your Lights On

10.24.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Thirty-Five

/\/\/\/\/\

Some fifty miles out from Midgar, down south towards the grassy fields chocobos loved, Sephiroth's black bike purred a halt and he stepped off, nudging the kickstand out with one foot and taking off his helmet. Toriko fell off, her body completely numb from the combination of the motorcycle's vibrations and sheer fright. Sephiroth looked at her with a frown as he opened the chests built into the back of the bike.

"Stop being melodramatic," he said. "And get up."

"Yes, Father," she said, pushing herself onto her feet. At least he was kind enough not to make her do anything more than that: it would be cruel in her near incapacitated state. Toriko tapped her ears to get the ringing out of them as Sephiroth pulled several very tightly packed items from the motorcycle's trunk.

"There was no way to fit two tents in here," Sephiroth said, looking at her, "so we'll be sharing one. Will that be a problem?"

Toriko's innards twisted. Though reasonably she knew he wouldn't do anything to her, her mother's memories railed against being so close to the man that was on some level still the Demon. Toriko swallowed, trying to force away the imprinted revulsion.

"I don't think so..." She said cautiously.

"You don't think so?" He repeated, his brows arching.

Toriko squirmed, uncomfortable at having to answer a question she didn't know the answer to. Sephiroth looked at her for a moment before going back to unloading.

"Well, someone needs to keep watch anyway," he said. "And too much sleep is making me dull."

Toriko looked at him, her eyes widening. Implicitly he'd just offered not to stay in the tent if it would bother her. Shame filled Toriko's face with warmth and she looked down at the ground, feeling wretched.

Sephiroth glanced at her. "Don't be like that," he said, sounding more annoyed than comforting. "When you get older and we start doing these trips more often, you'll do your fair share of staying up."

"Yes, Father," she said, looking at him. "Umm... Do you need help unpacking?"

"No."

Toriko looked around. "Where are we, exactly?"

"We are in the westernmost third of the East Continent," Sephiroth said vaguely. "Surrounded by nothing but wide plains, mountains, wild chocobos, and the occasional monster."

"Monster?" Toriko looked at him sharply.

Sephiroth nodded. "They're far and few between, but I expect we'll encounter at least one at some point in time. Which reminds me..." Sephiroth leaned over the bike and opened a small compartment on the opposite side. "These are for you," he said, straightening and handing Toriko a black case, much like something used to carry a flute. "Don't lose them."

"Don't lose them?" She repeated, puzzled, and opened the box. A strangled gasp came from her throat as Toriko found herself staring at eight gleaming orbs of materia.

"Don't get too excited," Sephiroth said as she gaped at them, her hands trembling. "They're all newly born and it'll take a very long time for you to get them as strong as they need to be."

Toriko looked up at him, eyes wide. "Why are you giving me this?"

"Because I have too much," he said, leaning against the bike. "The damn things give birth so often that it's like having a chest of magic mice in my closet. You're doing me a favor by taking these."

_"That's not what I meant!" _Toriko wanted to say, but Sephiroth went on. "You already know how to use materia and I don't intend for this trip to be purely for fun: we're going to use it for training."

"Oh," Toriko said, feeling something inside her wilt. But then she looked down at the materia and a warm feeling spread throughout her, filling her veins with bright, jittery energy. Excitement, that's what it was called.

"You'll learn to tell the difference between various types and levels of materia," Sephiroth said, "as well as use them in combinations in order to achieve specific effects. Normally these things are only taught to SOLDIERS, but they're good for anything."

"Thank you," Toriko said sincerely, looking up at her father.

Sephiroth met her gaze for a split second, and in that moment she thought she saw him blush—but then he looked away, gazing off into the sky.

"You're welcome," he said. "Now tell me what kinds of materia you have in that box."

Toriko looked down at the case. Arranged by color, there was one yellow materia, three green materia, one blue, and three purple. Toriko exhaled deeply to clear her mind and touched the yellow materia.

_"Good thing Hojo taught me the rudiments of materia recognition, if only for learning purposes..."_

"Sense," Toriko said, feeling her awareness expand.

"What does it do?" Sephiroth asked.

"It gives me the enemy's statistics," Toriko said. "And it doesn't cost MP."

Sephiroth nodded. "Good. Next one."

Toriko touched a green orb. It felt warm and somehow alive under her fingers, the way most green materia felt: the light licking feeling, though, was particular to only one kind. "Fire."

"Next."

"Wind," Toriko said, touching the orb and feeling its characteristic 'fragility': wind materia felt like a smoke-filled globe.

"Next."

And so it went until Toriko had identified all the materia. Toriko was pleased with herself: she'd known all what the orbs had been at first touch and when Sephiroth had asked her questions, she'd answered him correctly. Sephiroth seemed pleased too.

"Here's something to put those materia in," he said, and handed her an armband and a Shin-Ra standard issue sword: the former had six slots and the latter had two. Toriko was speechless and she looked at her father, unable to say or think anything to express the maelstrom of shock, awe, gratitude, and suspicion that were roiling in her chest.

"Stop that," Sephiroth said suddenly, his eyes narrowing. Toriko blinked and started when she found tears on her face.

_"When did this happen?" _She thought furiously, rubbing her face with her sleeve. _"And why am I crying? He has a very practical reason for giving me these. It's not out of affection, it's for training. I shouldn't look so much into it..."_

To make up for her slip, Toriko briskly arranged the materia in the armband and the sword as Sephiroth watched her.

"Not bad," he said, "but neither of us will be needing the Restore-All combination. You still have the Touph Ring, don't you?"

"Yes," she said, holding up her hand and showing him the tarnished silver band.

"Good. Put that All with either Fire or Wind: it'll be more useful for groups of monsters."

"Yes, Father."

"And put the Sense into your armor: otherwise you'll sense something every time you hit it."

"Yes, Father," Toriko said aloud while thinking, _"But then I will know how close I am to killing it." _

_ "You will also have to be close enough to hit it, which means that it will be close enough to hit you," _he replied. _ "More than likely you'll be able to dodge it, but there's no need to take chances." _

Toriko shuffled her materia until Sephiroth was satisfied. When she was done, Sephiroth resumed rummaging through the motorcycle's trunk, apparently looking for something. As he searched for the mysterious item, Toriko puzzled over the armband. Made for a heavily muscled man, it was too big to put around her arm. Toriko turned it over in her hands and noticed a hinge on the outside of it.

_"That makes sense," _she thought, studying the hinge. _"If it's loose enough to slide all the way up a man's arm, it's also loose enough to slide down, and that would be terrible in battle."_

On the opposite side of the hinge was a hairline crack showing where the armband would split. Toriko felt around the armband until she found a small button she could press; when she did, the armband popped open with a metallic click.

_"I wonder..." _she thought, looking at the open band. It was too big to fit around her arm, but maybe...

With no real thought to what she was doing, Toriko put the band around her neck and closed it, the ends of it snapping shut behind her neck. It was only when she heard the closing click that Toriko realized she might have done something stupid.

_"I hope I can get this off," _Toriko thought, feeling around the band. She wasn't worried when she couldn't find the button on the first, but on the third or fourth time around she began to feel a little panicky. There had to be some way to get this thing off her neck. It felt a little tight now; she hadn't counted on that. Toriko drew her head back and tried to squint down at the band, but she couldn't see it. _"Where's the button?"_ She thought with rising panic as she went around the band for the fifth time. _"Where is it?"_

"Father," she squeaked, the air straining past the armband.

Sephiroth looked up from the trunk, glancing at her over his shoulder. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but instantly spotted the problem, the band of glowing stones around her neck. For the first time in their association, he appeared totally nonplussed and actually stared at her, his mouth open, for a good long time.

"What..." he said finally, walking over and kneeling by her. "Why...?"

"It won't come off," Toriko said, very near to tears.

Sephiroth knelt by her, running his hand through his hair. His green eyes were bright with bafflement and not a little amusement, which tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Sit still," he said, reaching for the band. His leatherclad fingers were warm and oddly comforting as they spidered around her neck, feeling delicately for the catch and occasionally turning the band. This close, Toriko could see how his fey, chiseled features oddly matched her own. She would have his cheekbones when she grew up, and hopefully his long eyelashes. Though her skin would never be as pale as his, she hoped it would be as soft.

"Father, do you shave?" She asked.

"From time to time," he said. "My facial hair grows slowly."

"How come?"

"I don't know."

"Are you ever going to grow a beard?"

"Probably not."

"It would make you look old," Toriko said solemnly.

"That it would," he agreed. Light flickered in his eyes and with a click the armband came open, falling from Toriko's neck. She heaved a sigh of relief, feeling so happy she could nearly explode. Sephiroth looked at the band. "How did you get this around your neck?"

"Well, it was too big to go on my arm," she said, taking the band from him. "And I didn't think I could stick it on my leg, so..." And again, with no real thought, Toriko put the band on and snapped it around her neck. Immediately she froze. _"Shit."_

Sephiroth pressed his lips together, but she could see the laughter dancing in his eyes and hear the chuckles he was hiding in his throat. Reaching out, he took the armband off again and shook the materia out, saying, "Maybe you need a different piece of armor."

"I think so," she said, frowning at the armband.

"They might not make armor for people your size," he said. "I'll talk to Scarlet about getting something made."

"Scarlet?" Toriko asked, tilting her head. "Double-sided tape woman?"

"Yes," Sephiroth said, his face perfectly straight. She could, however, feel his mental chuckles. "Battering ram woman. She's the head of the department of Weapons Development."

Toriko's eyes widened. "Formidable."

"Indeed," Sephiroth agreed. "But she enjoys playing games more than profiting from them, which makes her a tiring companion and a most irritating rival: I try not to deal with her more than I have to."

Toriko fixed on the word 'companion'. "Have you ever slept with her?"

A look of disgust crossed Sephiroth's face. "Dear God, no. Her laugh is horrible enough, I don't—" He stopped, suddenly remembering how old Toriko was, and said instead, "She's stuffed herself full of silicon; for all we know, she doesn't need the double-sided tape because that dress is—shall we say—firmly supported. I'm not interested in a doll anyway."

Toriko grinned. Sephiroth's complex insults were fun. She hoped to make long ones like his someday.

"As long as I'm there, I'll see how your weapons are coming along too," he said. "I've requested a variety of blades and firearms to see how they'll work out."

"Firearms?" Toriko asked, surprised.

"No use in overspecializing," he said. "You never know when you'll get caught without your preferential weapon, so it's good to be well-rounded."

Toriko could understand that. "Am I still going to use twin swords? You said you wanted to make me learn something with reach."

"Well, yes," he said, leaning back to prop himself up on his arms. "You are going to be short, so reach would be an issue: however, a master of twin swords will have attack and defense neatly rolled into one, and with your enhanced abilities, the normal consideration of reach won't apply to you as much."

Toriko digested this. "What is the real purpose of me learning to fight? I could understand if I was a boy, but I'm not, so…"

"It's true girls don't usually fight," Sephiroth said. "But that's a waste of resources. Women can be just as deadly as men in combat, and sometimes more useful."

"Kunoichi?" Toriko suggested.

Sephiroth nodded. "That, and men have compunctions about attacking them. A few times, we faced all-female regiments in the war and the men just didn't want to hit them. I asked one of the survivors what was going through his head and he said, "Well, they were _girls,_ Captain," before he died."

"They didn't fight back?" Toriko asked, surprised.

"They did eventually. But by that time, the women had already slaughtered over sixty percent of the force."

Toriko caught a drifting thread from his mind and asked, "Is that why rape became so common?"

Sephiroth mentally twitched. _ "I know she's not an ordinary girl, but I hate it when she asks questions like these..." _"Yes," he said aloud. "It became almost policy to do that because of the shattering effects it would have on a female warrior's psyche."

Ruthless. Terrible. Yet perfectly reasonable. Toriko began to realize what a truly terrifying person her father was, not because of his physical prowess but because he preferred to methodically dissemble people from the inside out, leaving fragile shells that were better ground to dust.

_"He really would have gotten along well with Mother if only they'd met under different circumstances."_

"Of course, it damaged quite a few of the men too," Sephiroth mused. "The older ones more; war and its atrocities didn't fit their preconceived notions of honor and duty. The younger men adapted quite well."

_"Congratulations, Father," _Toriko thought to herself._ "You've raised a generation of brutes."_

"Any other questions for me?" He asked, looking at her and tilting his head; his silvery hair spilled over his shoulder, pooling in his lap. Toriko studied it for a moment.

"Was your hair always that color?" She asked finally, looking up at him.

"This?" He picked up a lock and rolled it between his fingers, the fine strands glinting white-silver in the afternoon light. "No, actually. It started turning white during the war."

"Stress?"

"Perhaps. Or puberty." He looked at her. "Wondering about yours?" Toriko nodded. Sephiroth looked at her for a long moment. "Well, it wouldn't look back on you," he said finally. "You'd look more like me."

"Is that why it would look good?" Toriko asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

Sephiroth smiled. "Of course." Getting back to his feet, he said, "As soon as I find my own materia box, we're going to take a hike."

"Where to?" Toriko asked.

Sephiroth pointed toward the east and Toriko turned, blinking when she saw a mountain in the near distance.

"There and back," Sephiroth said.

There _and_ back? Toriko felt her legs wobbling. But she got to her feet, saying, "Yes, Father."

Sephiroth looked at the armband, turning it over in his hands. "I don't have another piece of armor for you," he said finally, putting the armband in the motorcycle's trunk. "But the Touph Ring will prevent any injuries, so you'll be fine. Are you ready to go?"

They'd eaten lunch before taking off from Midgar, so Toriko couldn't even plead hunger as an excuse. "...Yes, Father."

"Good," he said, reaching down and pulling the sheathed Masamune off the side of the motorcycle. "Let's go, then."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Once I made this pot in ceramics class that was just perfect for me to stick my hand into, so I did so for carrying purposes. Once I sat down and tried to remove the pot, however, I realized that the shape of the mouth and the swell of my knuckles made removing my hand impossible. So I swore and tussled and yanked and eventually pulled the thing off my hand as my friends came to sit with me.

"What are you doing?" They asked.

"Oh, I got my hand stuck in this pot," I said, showing them the pot.

"How?" They asked.

"Like this," I said, and promptly stuck my hand back in there. It's like when you shut the car door and realize just as the thing slams shut that you've left your keys in there. "Damn it!"

So I wrenched it off again. As more and more people came by to visit, I had to put the pot away so I wouldn't show them exactly how I managed to get my hand stuck in the thing. I kept it in my bag when I went home, and as I was unpacking my stuff, my sister came into the room and noticed the pot.

"Oh, that's cool." She said.

"Yeah," I said. "Hey, you want to know something funny? I got my hand stuck in this."

"No, you didn't."

"Yeah I did. See? ... DAMN IT!"

So there's that. It's just so _easy_...

From here on in this A/N I will answer questions, the first being yes, I know there's no Wind materia in FFVII. However, there are several Wind summons, so I conclude there are Wind orbs…somewhere. Replies to questions are arranged alphabetically by reviewer name.

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**Ksim3000**: Jeez, you asked a lot of questions. But they're fun, so I'll happily reply/postulate/explain.

Question 1: First of, between say a SOLDIER and a normal Human being on this "Planet", would the average Human be stronger than say us, here on Earth? And basically, the SOLDIERS just one big rendition of this?

Answer: First off, I do think humans on the Planet (though officially, the name appears to be Gaia) are stronger than normal humans, if only by virtue of having to lead a more active lifestyle in the interest of survival: monsters, hello? Considering how common potions and weapons are and the like, I assume quite a large population of the Planet knows how to handle arms and keep themselves in the physical condition required to use their weapons of choice—the bare minimum required, anyway. So they're healthier and stronger, in my opinion, but not like they've got twice our gravity or anything.

From this point, SOLDIERS are, of course, much stronger, their strength/health being determined by their class/number of enhancements and their level (10, 30, 99, etc). I think Third Class SOLDIERS would be stronger than normal people, but still at an attainable level: you could eventually bench 500 lbs, for example, if you decided to train. Third Classers get that right off the bat as soon as they're done with The Process. Second Classers have about 1.5x their strength at the same level. First Classers, however, are exponentially stronger, and here I mean 'exponential' in the calculus sense, which means that they start off slow but once they get going, they shoot way up. See a graph of "e" for further clarification. In a neat side-by-side comparison

Human (this is a healthy human male who is neither over nor underweight with a regular metabolism, no physical ailments, and no physical training): x

Third Class (if said male were to undergo The Process): 2.5x

Second Class (Process no. 2): 3.75x

First Class: ex (no conclusive number is put here because how much stronger the First Class SOLDIER would be is dependent on x, which is the person's strength at level x. For example, say we have a regular person at level 3. A First Class SOLDIER would be approximately 20 times stronger than him/her (meaning they measure as level 20). If the person is level 4, then the First Class SOLDIER is approximately 55 times stronger (level 55). Do the math and get some really freaky numbers!)

Now some of you may be wondering how this jives with AVALANCHE: Cloud, after all, has the strength of a First Classer, so why doesn't he shoot past his teammates in terms of strength? This I'll explain later in the context of the story, so I won't answer it here: suffice to say, it will be explained and in detail.

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Question 2: Did the Wutaiese or Continentals have any proper armoured vehicles or tanks, say like the BMP-1, T-55 tanks, M113, M1A1 Abrhams, etc? Or was it just...motorcycles and trucks, oh and Chocobos?

Answer: Those were pretty much it, actually. We know Shin-Ra was a weapons company in the past and that it had access to an abundance of metal, but since there is magic, the importance of tanks and in fact, anything mechanized, is not as great: after all, a Bolt3 spell essentially flushes several million dollars/gil down the drain and sets off a giant shrapnel bomb on your side. The Continental people did use guns, but barrier spells tend to soften, if not negate bullets, so guns and stuff like that wouldn't be as useful. Howitzers and mortars might have been good, but transportation would have been a problem (crossing ocean boats/planes, which can be exploded with magic again). Long story short, the existence of magic in this world means that the people of the Planet conduct warfare in a more "in your face" fashion: I mean, killing people from a distance is nice, but how do you know they won't revive unless you get up to their body and cut their heads off? You know what I mean. This also explains (in my head, at least) why in Last Order, the soldiers chasing Cloud and Zack had both long- and close-range weapons (swords). Here's a rundown of the basic army composition on the Planet:

Wutaiese: Infantry, cavalry, mages (think black mages), healers (white mages), ninjas.

Continental: Infantry, mages, medics, SOLDIERS.

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Question 3: Will you write any background say about the "Planet" and "Earth"? Since you tend to write about the history of the "Planet" quite a bit, will you do anything about original Humans on Earth being involved, say Human Colonization, Humans died on Earth and appeared here, Extra-Terrestrial inteferance in such a scheme or would some Humans have Colonized, the other being Cetra related? So one half equals Homo-Sapiens, the other half equals Cetrea related?

Answer: Err... I don't really see this happening. I'll write about the history of the Planet, but Earth will not be involved in any way. It's Final Fantasy, after all, and I like it because it's _not_ Earth. I probably will have to go into the history of Cetra, however, or more likely, the "Ancients" since I see that as something being learned about in school—which Toriko will eventually be attending.

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Question 4: In your opinion, if writing about this, in comparison to say the "Planet's" forces and Earth's forces, if a war ever broke out between the two peoples, who would be the most likely winner? I know it is an odd question, especially for a fiction, well, a fanfiction at that, but since you are keen on military details, I thought I would ask you that question.

Answer: Earth would kick the Planet's rear. There are more of us, for one thing, and because we don't have instant healing or magic, we've developed weapons that focus on quantity instead of quality: A-Bombs, for example. Yes, a Summon Materia could probably take out a hundred men, but an A-bomb in a populated area could wipe out millions. Plus, our history is a long and bloody one, whereas the existence of monsters on the Planet seem to indicate that people are kept busy from killing each other because they're busy enough killing the fiends. That's what I think, anyway; there could have been (and probably were) a lot of wars, but considering how far the towns are spread out, I don't think it would have happened very often. In any case, I think the Planet would certainly put up a good fight, especially if the war was a defensive one, but we'd eventually overrun them like fleas. I don't know who I'd be rooting for in that fight... Probably the side with the silver-haired bishie on it. :P

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**RebelX:** You left this question all the way on ch. 26, but I did want to address it.

Question: I'm leaving a review for this chapter because there is something in it that bothers me. If you've switched the two mentalities and made Wutai the sneaky survive at all costs ones and the Continentals the death-before-dishonor types, doesn't that contradict earlier when Sephiroth was remembering how the Wutai women committed suicide en mass rather than face the shame of being POWs? Just thought I'd point out that small inconsistency.

Answer: Thank you for pointing out the inconsistency; I'd forgotten about that until you'd mentioned it. After some rumination, I decided that the Continental Wutaiese (ex. People like Tseng, who were born there/raised there) as not as honor-high considering they have to live with their oppressors/equals-once-subjects. J ( ) also pointed out that ninja have a high code of honor and it was unfair for me to have them unscrupulous, so to speak. I may go back and change the pertinent details, but I'd at least like to get to chapter 100 before a rewrite comes up. And yes, I see this going to about 100 chapters, if only because I'll get tired after four or five pages of a chapter and want to do something else.

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	38. Chapter 36

Put Your Lights On

10.24.05

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

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Chapter Thirty-Six

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"Huff...huff..."

Sephiroth gazed out at the sea as Toriko caught her breath, leaning forward on her knees. He had deliberately gone up the mountain as fast as he'd been able to, running, climbing, and occasionally jumping straight up to set a blinding pace. Toriko had done her game best to keep up and she'd been pretty close for the first third of the journey: after that, she'd slowed down considerably and had only managed to scrabble up a few seconds ago.

"We'll take a rest," he said, sitting down, and behind him he heard Toriko collapse gladly onto her hands and knees. "You did well today."

"Tha...thank you," she gasped, pulling herself into a sitting position. "Oh," she said as she noticed where they were.

"Never seen the ocean?" He asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Not from a height," she said a little breathlessly. Getting to her feet, she walked a little unsteadily to sit by him, folding her legs underneath her. "The water's colored differently here. It's more blue."

Sephiroth nodded. Wutaiese water was blue-green, warmer and teeming with life. The Eastern Continent's ocean was dark and cold, bearing stark whitecaps even on calm days.

"Mother took me to see the ocean once," Toriko mused. "She sat on the beach and I dug for clams."

"Clams?" Sephiroth looked at her curiously.

"Mother wanted clam soup," Toriko explained. "And it was a nice day, so we went for a walk. Digging for clams was nice."

Sephiroth brushed her mind and found that Seishi hadn't forced her to dig or even told her to: Toriko had simply started looking for clams on her own, prodded by her mother's unspoken desire. The wan smile of gratitude on Seishi's face was one of Toriko's treasured memories.

"You really loved your mother, didn't you?" Sephiroth asked, looking at her.

Toriko didn't say anything for a while. "Yes," she said finally. "I do. It didn't feel like it sometimes, when she thought hurtful things about me or how life could be easier without me, but... I don't really remember hating her, not even once."

Sephiroth looked out over the ocean, not sure what to say. Toriko looked at him.

"What about...your parents?" She asked quietly.

Sephiroth shrugged. "I don't know anything about them."

"Nothing at all?"

Sephiroth shook his head. "Hojo never let me see my files."

"Why didn't you...?" Toriko tapped her head, looking at him through her short, thick eyelashes.

Sephiroth blinked. "It never occurred to me," he admitted. "And, well... I admit I'm a little afraid of what I'll find."

"It's not that bad," Toriko said. Sephiroth looked at her, startled, and laughed softly.

"No, I suppose not," he said. "Even so, I..." _ "I don't want to find out the reason they didn't want me." _

_ "I understand that," _Toriko thought back. Looking out at the sea, she said aloud, "The past is important, but only so one can move onto the future. Mother said that quite often."

"Did she really believe that?" Sephiroth asked, looking at her.

Toriko nodded. _ "I know it seems strange, considering how she dwelt so heavily on the past, but it really was so she could move on—so those things wouldn't traumatize her too much later. She made herself strong that way." _

Sephiroth looked at Toriko and wondered if she would try to make herself strong that way as well. Brushing her mind, though, he found an appalling lack of firmness. Neither having her mother's quietly savage iron will nor his calculating survival drive, Toriko seemed perfectly content to sit back and let stronger people—let him—take care of her.

_"After four years in Hojo's lab, it's what she wants. But she needs to be able to take care of herself in case she doesn't have a protector around. Not that I plan to die, but contingencies must be made..._

"I seem to recall a way to make a child a legal adult before they turn sixteen... What is that called? Emancipation? I'll talk to Reeve about that when he comes back from Costa del Sol."

"Time's up," he said, getting to his feet. "I'll go down before you to catch you if you fall. Don't drop rocks on my head."

"Yes, Father," Toriko said, pushing herself to her feet with a small groan.

"Don't make me wait," he said before going down the cliff.

What most people didn't know was that going down a sheer face was more difficult that going up. Going up, all you had to concentrate on was the next handhold, the next place to climb from. Jumping down, Sephiroth had to be especially careful about where he landed, all too aware that his weight thudding down in the wrong place could shear off a goodly portion of cliff. He was a third of the way down when he decided to check on Toriko's progress. He frowned when he noticed that she was coming down very, very slowly.

"She's freeclimbing—it'll take her forever to come down that way."

"Just jump!" He thought impatiently at her. "And stop facing the cliff, you won't be able to see where you're going that way." 

"You're not supposed to look down from heights!" She thought back at him; her words were tinged with panic. Sephiroth suppressed the urge to shout at her, frustrated with her perpetual fear. "I'll fall!" 

"If it's a calculated fall, that's fine," he snapped irritably. "And I even said I'd catch you." 

"Are you sure you won't let me drop for training purposes?" 

"If you keep sassing me, I will." 

He felt her irritation and resentment growling sullenly at him. "Why don't you remember what it's like to be afraid?" 

"Because it's a waste of time and energy. Now come down or I'm leaving you up there." 

Her whimper was a physical thing as Toriko slowly eased herself from the cliff face and turned around, flinching away from the sight of the drop below her. Sephiroth remembered her similar fear in the elevator shaft.

"Don't tell me she's afraid of heights! Heights can't hurt you. Not like snakes..."

"You're afraid of snakes?" Toriko thought at him in surprise. Sephiroth swore; he hadn't meant to send that thought to her.

"Snakes and spiders," he said. "They're unnatural creatures and I hate them with a passion." 

"Why?" 

"One has eight legs and the other has none. The way they move is...ughh." 

"I like snakes," Toriko thought at him, letting go of the cliff and dropping onto a ledge about five feet below her. She stumbled and Sephiroth took a step forward, ready to leap up and catch her if she fell. Toriko, however, recovered her balance and looked down for another place to jump to. "In Wutai, I had a little green one that lived under the whorehouse and I fed it crickets." 

"Uggghhh…" 

"Can I have a snake for a pet?" She thought at him, picking up on and enjoying his discomfort. Sephiroth would have snapped at her, but creeping him out gave her something to think about other than heights, and it was making her come down faster, so...

"Wouldn't you rather have a cat?" Sephiroth thought back. "Or a dog?" 

"But I can hide a snake in my pocket," Toriko thought with relish. "And I can throw it at people who are mean to me." 

Despite his abhorrence, Sephiroth laughed. "Is that what you did in Wutai?" 

"Yes. They thought it was a fake until Snake bit them. Then they ran away screaming." 

"Was Snake poisonous, by any chance?" 

"No. Its head wasn't triangle-shaped. It still had teeth, though." 

"If you want a pet that will make people scream when you throw it at them, maybe you should have a mouse," Sephiroth thought.

"But a snake is more imposing," Toriko thought back. "Especially ones with hoods." 

"You want a cobra?" Sephiroth shuddered. "The hood is its ribs, you know." 

"Really?" 

"Yes. There are also snakes that can totally spread all their ribs out, and they glide from tree to tree in the rainforest." 

"That sounds fun," Toriko thought with a giggle as she leapt down a few more cliffs. Sephiroth watched with mixed alarm and pride as she stepped off a narrow ledge and dropped thirty feet to the next, steadying herself by touching her fingers to the grassy ground. She was about twenty feet above him now. Without thinking, he reached out and caught her as she jumped toward him, her hands grabbing his shoulders. He flinched a little as her fingers dug into the muscle, clawlike through his leather jacket.

"So she was feigning bravery this whole time... That's a start."

"Hehe," she said, giggling a little nervously.

Sephiroth put her down and she let go of his shoulders, turning to look down the rest of the cliff. "Well..." she said slowly. "It's not so far to fall now."

"That's right," he said, also looking over the side. "So it won't hurt as much. Let's continue."

Stepping fearlessly off the edge, Sephiroth dropped fifty feet, swinging in midair to slide off an incline that was just wide enough to skid down, skateboard style. Above him, he heard Toriko do the same.

"So she's going to imitate me the whole way down, is she? Not a bad idea..."

From then on it was choosing a path that Toriko, with her limited abilities, would easily and safely be able to follow. Sephiroth had decided that immersive combat was not the best way to teach Toriko: she would freeze up because of her fear, and be made even more reluctant to fight in the future. She had to be led into combat; tricked into it, even.

"It's going to be a very tedious process..."

A few minutes they were back on the ground, and again Sephiroth caught Toriko as she made the last leap. For good or ill, he was starting to become more comfortable touching her, as if he was trying to reassure himself that she was still there, that her existence wasn't a Mako dream.

"Now why would I do that? Surely her presence isn't all that important to me..."

"It's still early in the day," he said, putting her down on the ground. "We'll hike for a bit."

"Then what?" Toriko asked, looking up at him.

"We'll eat dinner and then we'll pitch the tent."

"Then we'll go to sleep?"

"No, I'll teach you some useful things," Sephiroth said. Toriko sighed a little but didn't say anything. "Let's go," Sephiroth said. "I'll show you how to track."

"Yes, Father," she said, and followed obediently after him as they set off into the grasslands.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I need to change the freakin' POV! I'm seriously tempted to do Reeve and his family...

And there is an obvious tense change when Sephiroth and Toriko are talking about Seishi ("You really loved your mother, didn't you?" "Yes, I do.") but that's deliberate. Subconsciously, Sephiroth wants Toriko to forget Seishi: greedy, isn't he? But Toriko holds some affection for her mother, so that's not going to be possible...

/\/\/\/\/\


	39. Chapter 37

Put Your Lights On

10.25.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Thirty-Seven

/\/\/\/\/\

"Eeeew, Meryl! Put it down!"

"It's just a dead jellyfish! Touch it!"

"No!"

Ahh, vacation. Reeve sat on the beach and watched his younger daughter chase her sister with something that looked like a gelatinous plate. Beside him, Naomi was dozing, her book over her face. The day was warm and bright, and something about the invigorating smell of brine was making Reeve grin like an idiot. How long had it been since he'd had a vacation with his family? It took him an appallingly long time to remember.

"Five years ago, the Gold Saucer... Meryl would have been six, then, and Rose ten years old..."

Time passed so quickly, and one of the perks of being rich that if you were willing to pay, it didn't seem to pass at all. Neither he nor Naomi went for plastic surgery, but their apparent youthfulness was born of the lifestyle only money could buy. Despite having borne two children and being a stay-at-home mother, Naomi was still as slender and willowy as she'd been the day Reeve had met her. Reeve reached over to touch her on the arm, but stopped; she was sleeping, and he didn't want to wake her.

"Dad!"

Reeve turned and jumped as Meryl thrust her dead jellyfish into his face.

"Will you touch this so Rose can see it's not gonna sting her?" Meryl asked, glaring at her older sister.

"Um, Meryl, you should probably put that down..." Reeve said, eyeing the jellyfish with misgiving. "I'm sure it's not sanitary."

"Oh, Dad, it's not like I'm gonna eat it," Meryl said, rolling her eyes.

"Meryl, it's _dripping,_" Rose said, her voice full of all the horrified disgust only a teenage girl could manage.

"You're dripping," Meryl shot back, which Reeve thought made absolutely no sense. "Come on, Dad, touch it."

Reeve didn't want to, but hey, it was vacation and new experiences were always good, right? Right. Gingerly he reached forward and poked the jellyfish. It was cold, clammy, and covered with a thick layer of slime. It also like gave a little, like a ripe melon.

_"I wonder..."_ Reeve thought suddenly.

"OOWWWW!" He screamed, and Rose shrieked, clapping her hands over her face. Meryl, startled by his reaction, also screamed and threw the jellyfish into the air, where it sailed up like a slimy translucent discus and landed with a loud slap on Naomi's bare stomach.

Naomi snapped awake with an incoherent cry of shock and yelled again when she saw the oozing thing sliding around on her stomach. Springing to her feet, Naomi frantically wiped the slime off her as the dead jellyfish slid down her legs and plopped into the sand, where it lay like a giant loogie.

"What the... What the..." Naomi gasped, her face as white as a sheet.

Reeve couldn't help it. He burst out laughing so hard he instantly felt his sides seize and he was only peripherally aware of his wife's freezing glare as he toppled over, gasping for air to breathe and laugh and only coming up with enough air for one of them.

"I suppose you think you're clever," Naomi said in a chilling tone of voice.

Reeve sat up, wiping his eyes and still laughing. "I'm so sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I had no idea that would happen."

"Hmph," Naomi sniffed and picked up her towel. Reeve watched her, sobering.

"Naomi, it was an accident." He said as she picked up her book and sunglasses. "Come on, it doesn't have to ruin your day. Naomi!" Reeve watched helplessly as his wife stalked away, heading for the stairs.

"Mom's just PMS'ing," Meryl said, and Reeve looked at her to see her grinning. She had obviously enjoyed the happenings. "Come on, Dad, let's swim in the ocean."

"I'll go see what's up with Mom," Rose said, frowning a little. "And you," she said, pointing at Meryl. "You pick up another dead thing and I swear—"

"Yeah, whatever." Meryl seized Reeve's hand and pulled. "Come on, Dad! Let's swim."

"Okay, okay," Reeve said, letting himself be pulled to his feet. "Don't yank my arm off, now."

"I bet you could stick it back on," Meryl said, grinning. Reeve grinned back. His youngest daughter was as resilient as a rubber ball, going through everything with a laugh and a smile. Too bad she was getting to the age where impulsive hugs made her embarrassed. Reeve dusted the sand off his trunks and followed his younger daughter as Rose went after her mom.

"Yahoo!" Meryl whooped, hurling herself bodily into the surf. She surfaced in an explosion of brine, sputtering and red-faced. "Come on, Dad!"

"Hold your chocobos," Reeve said, stepping into the water. It was shockingly cold and he nearly jumped back in surprise. "Jeezy cow..."

"Jump in," Meryl said, her teeth chattering a little. "It's not so cold that way."

"I'm not that brave," Reeve said as he waded in, his innards freezing as the seawater soaked into his trunks and instantly plastered them against his unprepared skin, sending goosebumps over his arms and back. He stopped there, trying to acclimate himself to the chill.

"Come ooooonnnn," Meryl drawled. She swung like a jellyfish in the water, all boneless and waving her arms. "Come onnn!"

"Hold on!" Reeve said, inching in a little more. Holy crap, it was cold. Wasn't tropical water supposed to be warm or something? While he was considering, Reeve had only the split-second flash of mischief in her eye to warn him before Meryl slashed her arm through the water and sent a sheet of it flying his way.

"Whoa!" Reeve yelped, trying to step back, and promptly tripped himself. Seawater, cold and cloying, swallowed his entire body and Reeve panicked, flailing his arms. At once his hands found the soft, sandy bottom of the beach and he pushed himself up, gasping and coughing. Meryl laughed and paddled over to him.

"You're not mad, are you, Daddy?" She asked, sitting by him as he wiped the seawater from his face.

"Well, it wasn't exactly a pleasant surprise," Reeve said, coughing a little. "But no."

Meryl lit up, her face positively shining as she broke into one of her infectious grins. It was open and exuberant, still filled with the warmth of childhood and untempered by self-consciousness of adolescence. Toriko's smile, even in her sugar high, had been curiously guarded...

"Meryl," Reeve said. "How would you like to have Sephiroth and his daughter over for dinner?"

Meryl's brows shot up. Then for no good reason, she burst out laughing so hard that nearby seagulls startled and took to the air.

"No?" Reeve asked, perplexed.

Meryl shook her head. "Rose is gonna go bonkers!" She chortled, grinning hugely. "Let's do it, Dad, let's do it!"

Reeve had pretty much guessed Rose would be alright with the idea. And Naomi... "What do you think your mother's going to say?"

"She'll like it," Meryl said without hesitation. "She likes company. Mom gets really bored during the day. This'll give her something to do."

Reeve frowned. "Is your mother really that bored?"

"Oh, she's really bored," Meryl said, nodding. "She spends all her time trying to hang out with me and Rose. I don't care, but it drives Rose nuts. That's why they've been yelling at each other so much."

"They have?" Reeve asked with a sinking feeling.

"Yeah, like, all the time."

Guilt twisted in Reeve's stomach, an ugly little worm that gnawed at his insides. This was what he got for not being around. Not that Reeve minded missing screaming matches, it was just that he should know things like this about his own family. Meryl caught his look and patted his shoulder.

"It's okay, Dad," she said. "You're lucky. Last time they were almost throwing things at each other. It was scary."

That, if anything, made Reeve feel worse. Meryl again caught his expression and splashed him, making him jerk.

"Come on, Dad," she said. "Cheer up, it's vacation. You're supposed to have fun."

"Well, yeah, but..."

"No buts! Let's go swim." And with that, Meryl flipped under the water as agilely as any dolphin and resurfaced some ten feet out, her black-red hair plastered to her face. "Come on!"

Reeve sighed and shelved his feelings of inadequacy, hiding them in a corner that was steadily accumulating more debris. Kicking off the sandy bottom, Reeve paddled out to join his younger daughter in the surf.

"Come on, Dad!" She hollered. "Smile!" Meryl paused and added, "Just think about when the General sees Rose's poster!"

Reeve blanched. "Oh, dear GOD!"

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Not my best effort... But oh well. I want to move on.

/\/\/\/\/\


	40. Chapter 38

Put Your Lights On

10.29.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Thirty-Eight

/\/\/\/\/\

"Are chocobos good to eat?" Toriko asked as she and her father lay on a hillock, watching a flock of the aforementioned birds graze. In the distance, the fens that bordered the now-abandoned Mythril Mines glimmered wetly and if the wine blew just right, the fetid odor of the marshes hit Toriko right in the nose. It was sometime in the late afternoon and the sun was warm on Toriko's back, easing the burn of her legs muscles. Sephiroth walked very fast, so she had been jogging for the three hours as Sephiroth had strode ahead, seemingly intent on crossing the entire Eastern Continent and making it back in time for dinner, which was why Toriko now pondered the edibility of chocobos.

"They're very tough," Sephiroth said, not taking his eyes from the birds. "And rather bland. Good in stews, though." He looked at her. "Why do you ask?"

"It just seemed like something you'd know," she said. "And why are we hiding?"

"We are not hiding, we are waiting for them to pass." Sephiroth said, looking back at the chocobos. "That flock's over a hundred strong and no man alive has yet been able to outrun a chocobo, SOLDIERS included. I don't feel like being trampled today."

"But you could just kill them."

"And bring down every scavenger in the plains? Tori, killing is usually not the best solution to whatever problem you have, even if it involves something as dumb as a chocobo. Use it only when you have no other choice."

"Yes, Father." Toriko looked back at the chocobos. "Are chocobos mean?"

"In my experience they're savage, but those birds were trained to kill. Wild ones are supposedly skittish."

"So why don't we chase them away?"

Sephiroth pointed at a few smaller, downier birds that kept flapping their stubby wings, cooing loudly. "They've got young," he said. "And that makes any animal savage."

"Why don't we go around them?"

"The wind does not favor us. If they pick up on our scent, they'll probably charge."

Toriko looked at her father, her brows rising. "How do you know so much about chocobos?"

"Survival," he said, and Toriko would have laughed but for the dead serious expression on his face. "The Wutaiese used them to kill Continent soldiers in droves, so we treated the birds as just another type of enemy." Looking at Toriko, he said, "Why are you so impatient? It's a nice day, we're lying on the grass, and nothing's trying to kill us. Under most circumstances, this is a picnic."

Toriko fidgeted. "Well... I know. It's just that... They're _chocobos,_ Father. The whole flock isn't even half as smart as we are."

"But there are more of them," Sephiroth said. "Which makes them stronger. Also, stupidity makes them stronger yet."

"Sounds like people," Toriko said sourly.

"Doesn't it?" Sephiroth turned and looked at the yellow birds, who were still in the same patch of grass, pecking at seeds and snapping at insects. "I hate chocobos."

They lay on the hillock for a while longer, and Toriko felt her stomach cramping something fierce: surreptitiously she pressed a fist into her abdomen to quell the hunger pangs. Though hunger hadn't been a stranger in her first seven years, the time she'd spent with Hojo had accustomed her to regular meals and the absence of one was making her stomach protest loudly. Toriko pulled up a few blades of grass and stuck then in her mouth.

"Are you eating the grass?" Sephiroth demanded, his voice mild but absolutely saturated with incredulity.

"Yes," Toriko said. "I would eat clover, but I don't see any."

"Take that out of your mouth," he said, reaching over and pulling the blades out. "Any plains monster could have sh—defecated on those." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a nondescript bar wrapped in foil. "Eat this if you're that hungry."

"What's this?" Toriko asked, taking the bar.

"A trail ration. It'll fix you until dinner."

Toriko eyed the bar skeptically. It was about four inches long and flat, like a candy bar but thicker. Peeling off the foil, she saw what looked strongly like a piece of cardboard.

"This is edible?" She asked, looking at him.

"Yes. Eat it."

Toriko looked dubiously at the bar before taking a cautious bite from the end of it. It was cardy, just as she had feared, and absolutely tasteless. Toriko chewed the piece, which was somehow gummy, powdery, and crunchy all at once.

"Thith taeth lakh thit," Toriko said through a mouthful of cardboard shreddings.

"I never said it wouldn't," Sephiroth said, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth.

Toriko swallowed, or tried to. It took an embarrassingly long time to shape the polymeric mass in her mouth into something she could make her throat accept, and it seemed to leave a trail of wet powder in her throat. Toriko suppressed the urge to cough and said, "Did you ever eat one of these?"

"Unfortunately," he said. "But chocobo tastes better, so I didn't eat them as often as I might have."

Toriko pointed at the birds. "Can we—"

"No. There's only two of us and that would be a waste."

Toriko's stomach growled again, squeezing painfully, and she looked distastefully at the brown-gray bar. With a muttered swear Toriko took another bite of it and chewed gamely. Alternately biting and swearing, she nevertheless finished the ration bar in short order.

_ "Where on Earth did you learn all these curses?" _Sephiroth thought at her, more amused than she thought he'd be.

_ "Mother was a consummate curser," _Toriko said, smiling at the memory. _ "The expletive extraordinaire. She told me never to curse unless I mean it, though, so I won't diminish the power of the words." _

Sephiroth chuckled. _ "Your mother... She sounds interesting." _

_ "Life was never boring with her," _Toriko agreed. _ "But..." _

_ "But what?" _

_ "She's always going to hate you." _

Sephiroth turned and looked at her, surprise in his Mako eyes. "I know that," he said aloud. "Did you think I was interested in her?" Toriko shrugged, looking away. _ "Did you want me to be?" _He asked quietly.

_ "I thought having a normal family would be nice..." _ She said quietly, almost whispering. _ "It'll never happen but... Sometimes I hope, and that doesn't do me any good."_

_ "So you crush your own dreams to spare yourself the disappointment," _Sephiroth finished, nodding. _ "How masochistic of you." _

_ "Masochism's not entirely a bad thing in a world filled with people who want to hurt you." _

Sephiroth looked at the chocobos. _ "Just as long as you don't invite them to abuse you, Tori." _

One of the chocobos suddenly lifted its head, its blue eyes narrowing imperceptibly as it swung in the direction of the marsh. Sephiroth nudged Toriko even as he reached out to her with his mind.

_ "Watch that one," _he murmured. _ "He's sensed something." _

_ "So has that one," _ Toriko whispered, looking at a chocobo that had suddenly turned to face them. _ "Father, it's looking at us." _

Sephiroth cursed. _ "Damn it, the wind's changed. Get to your feet slowly: if they're feeling aggressive, they'll charge us." _

The tenseness in his voice sent a thread of worry through her. _ "Earlier you said there wasn't a man alive who could outrun a chocobo... Surely you—" _

_ "No." _

_ "...Shit." _

"WARK!" The first chocobo cawed and the herd looked up as one, a forest of tufted yellow heads swinging around to regard the marsh. Sephiroth sighed quietly in relief, and then drew a hissing breath between his teeth as something rippled through the grass, parting the emerald blades like a scythe.

_ "Juvenile Zolom," _Sephiroth informed Toriko as a thick black serpent, hooded and twice as long as Toriko was tall, suddenly lunged out of the grass, striking for the nearest young chocobo. The chicobo squawked in alarm and leaped back, too late to stop the Zolom's jaws from closing on its leg. Its squawk turned into a shriek of terror as the Zolom yanked it off the ground in a sinuous movement and flicked its long body, slamming the young bird against the ground. Toriko heard something snap and the chicobo abruptly stopped screaming. Just as abruptly, the flock ceased to move, every chocobo and chicobo staring in apparent horror.

_ "It's tenderizing it," _Sephiroth said quietly. _ "Bigger snakes can just constrict, but juvenile Zoloms have to stun their prey before eating it." _

_ "That's horrible," _Toriko thought, sick as the Zolom whacked the dead chick against the ground again.

"WAAARK!" The apparent mother of the dead chicobo rushed forward, flapping her stubby wings as hard she could in rage. The Zolom flinched as she pecked it staccato on the trunk, her head a yellow blur as she fearlessly beaked the reptilian predator. To Toriko's surprise, the Zolom hissed and slithered back, ink-black body coiling. Blood gleamed on its yellow-white scutes.

_ "Bad move," _Sephiroth thought, and Toriko nearly asked why before the chocobos suddenly seemed to realize that their attacker was nowhere as strong as they'd believed. She gasped as the flock surged forward in a tide, and Toriko caught only the briefest glimpse of black before the juvenile Zolom disappeared in a wash of yellow.

_ "Yet another reason why chocobos are like people," _Sephiroth said quietly as the flock turned from yellow to orange, red at the bloody core where the Zolom was being made short work of. His voice echoed in her mind, wrapping around her brain as she stared at the formerly docile chocobos in horror. _ "Show them any weakness and they will come after you. The only thing they love more than a hero is seeing a hero fall, and if you don't fall for them, they'll create opportunities..." _

_ "It almost seems safer to be a chocobo," _Toriko thought shakily, wincing as a gobbet of black-red flesh went flying.

_ "Until you're caught alone," _Sephiroth murmured. _ "By all means, be a Zolom—just prey wisely." _

Toriko turned away. _ "Do we have to watch this?" _

_ "Do you want to attract their attention?" _

A particularly visceral squelching noise made Toriko's stomach writhe. _ "...I suppose we should stay here." _

_ "Smart choice." _ Sephiroth said. Toriko pressed her face into the grass, shutting her eyes. A second later, Sephiroth's hand was on her back, a silent source of strength and comfort as the carnage went on. Toriko hesitated, and then wriggled over to where her father was, stopping when she could feel the warmth of his body at her side. Sephiroth also paused, and a second later he slid his hand from her back to her waist, loosely holding her to him. They stayed that way until the chocobos were done.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Chocobos are invincible. I accidentally hit one with a Limit Break when Cloud was level 30 and it went apeshit on his ass! One of my goals in my replaying files of FFVII is to eventually get Chocobuckle, which I've heard is an enemy skill that makes a fat chocobo fall out of the sky to pancake your foes into oblivion.

And chickens—if one of them has a spot, the other chickens will try to peck it off. If the spot's natural or permanent, the chickens will still peck. They will peck and peck and peck until the spotted chicken's bleeding, and they'll keep on pecking until that spotted chicken is _dead_. Just so you know.

Anyway, I think chocobos are freaky, aggressive creatures, which makes them cooler since they look so friendly. For those who haven't played FFVIII (not a bad game, just not worthy of the FF title), a chicobo is the name for a baby/young chocobo. Ta!

/\/\/\/\/\


	41. Chapter 39

Put Your Lights On

10.29.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Thirty-Nine

/\/\/\/\/\

It was getting on toward evening when Sephiroth decided it was time for him and Toriko to head back to the motorcycle and pitch the tent. She was getting pretty tired from trotting all day, and the incident with the Zolom and the chocobos had bothered her more than he'd expected. For about a mile afterwards, she'd held onto his hand, obliging him to walk slowly until her shivers had passed. He felt guilty for those, though he wasn't sure why. He hadn't made the chocobos tear the Zolom apart. In fact, it was all too likely that if they hadn't spotted the snake, they would have gone for him and Toriko, and Sephiroth didn't care to dwell on that unpleasant might-have-been. Toriko didn't seem to be dwelling either, but she wasn't thinking anything at him and she had her stoic Wutaiese face on again, so it was near impossible to tell what was really going through her mind.

"Are you alright?" He asked, looking back at her.

"Fine, Father," she said in her usual voice: polite, mellow, and a little distant. Sephiroth looked at her for a long moment, trying to figure out if she was lying, and suddenly felt himself stepping into empty space. Stumbling, he caught himself before he fell into a Muu burrow. Luckily, the Muu was not home to give him trouble and consequently court death by punting.

"Are you sure?" Sephiroth asked, turning around completely to look at her.

Toriko nodded, her gray-green eyes inquisitive. "Yes. It was, well... A little frightening, but I wasn't really scared." Waving her sword a little (she, like him, carried it naked) Toriko said, "I had this and the materia. And besides..." She looked at him through her eyelashes and said, "You're with me."

Sephiroth blinked. For a moment he wasn't sure if Toriko was trying to appeal to his protective side (an alien creature, in his opinion) or simply stating a fact. After a moment's deliberation, he opted in favor of fact.

"Hn," he grunted and turned around, walking again. Behind him, he heard Toriko follow behind him. "Tori, get up here where I can see you."

"Yes, Father," she said, obediently trotting to his side.

Suddenly there was a chattering behind him and Sephiroth flinched as something small, furry, and toothy attached itself to his leg. Looking down, he saw an enraged Muu chewing on his ankle.

Toriko stopped and looked. "Father, there's a—"

"I know," he said and wondered if Toriko had had a hint of laughter in her voice. Taking a step back, Sephiroth kicked and flung the offending monster off his leg. "It can't hurt me, but it's annoying."

"Does that happen often?"

Sephiroth shook his head. "No, but it's often enough. The tall grass and the wind make it hard to see their burrows."

They both turned as the Muu apparently landed on something that yelped. The grass parted as the Muu tore back for the safety of its burrow, a Kalm Fang hot on its heels. Seeing as Sephiroth and Toriko were standing practically on the Muu's burrow...

Sephiroth looked at his daughter. "Get 'em."

"What?" She looked at him, startled.

"You heard me."

Toriko looked at the approaching animals. Sephiroth had kicked the Muu quite some distance, so she had some time—about five seconds—to decide what she wanted to do. Sephiroth saw her green-gray eyes flicker with indecision before she closed her eyes, touching her hand to her brow.

_"Materia," _Sephiroth noted. _"Good choice since she's not sure of her physical skills yet."_

"Wind," Toriko said, pointing at the approaching monsters. The Muu squeaked as a small cyclone whipped it into the air, flinging it further away from its burrow. The cyclone battered uselessly against the heavier Kalm Fang, however, which hunkered into the tall grass and waited for the wind to subside. Toriko touched her hand to her brow again.

"Fire," she said, and the Kalm Fang yelped as its fur exploded into flame. With a howl of agony, the purple canine streaked off into the grass and Sephiroth frowned as it occurred to him that it might just set the plains aflame. With an impatient gesture he cast Quake2 and the burning wolf disappeared in a spray of earth.

The Muu hit the ground and bounced, rolling for a few feet before tottering onto its paws, clearly dazed. Looking at Sephiroth and Toriko, it seemed to decide that its burrow wasn't really _that_ important and scampered out of sight, disappearing into the long grass. Sephiroth looked at his daughter.

"You should have disposed of them both," he said, frowning.

"I know, Father," she said, and pointed into the distance, saying, "It's just that I saw those over there and thought maybe one of them being on fire would scare those ones away..."

"What ones?" Sephiroth turned and blinked when he saw a pack of Kalm Fangs cresting the next hummock over, scenting for their lost comrade. "How did you—"

"The Sense materia," Toriko said. "And I still have the Pre-Emptive you gave me."

"Good girl," Sephiroth said, and looked at his daughter. "How are you going to deal with them?"

_"It's a decent pack, about twenty animals or so. I could dispose of them easily, but Toriko isn't at my level yet. Should I thin out the pack and make her take care of the stragglers? Or should I merely watch her back?"_

"Fire-All," Toriko said as the pack approached.

_"Well," _Sephiroth thought as the pack's ruffs and paws combusted, _"It looks like she wants to take care of them herself."_

The pack was middle-aged and tough: their fur was discolored and patchy from previous encounters with materia. Enduring the searing heat, the largest of the Fangs rushed forward, thundering for Toriko. Toriko froze, her face paling. Then her eyes narrowed and she ran forward, gripping her sword in both hands.

_"I certainly hope her reaction time's good enough to duck if she misses," _Sephiroth thought, trotting forward. The Kalm Fang leaped, slavering jaws aiming for Toriko's throat, but she sidestepped and swung her blade forward. With her much-enhanced strength and the sharpness of the blade, the Kalm Fang was sheared in two from nose to tail, almost at the juncture of its jaw. Toriko swiped the blood off her face as she looked for the next Fang to dismember.

_"Nice," _Sephiroth thought appreciatively as he looked at the halves of the Fang in the grass. The cut was very clean, disregarding flesh and bone, and so swift that the nerves were still firing, making the body shudder spasmodically in death. Blood was everywhere, spattering on Sephiroth's coat and boots. The warmth of it stirred the savagery that he was forced to keep hidden in the city, and Sephiroth eyed the approaching Fangs with interest. _"If she misses a few, maybe..."_

Toriko was strong and fast, and those two virtues led her to dispose of four more Fangs before the purple wolves used their favorite strategy: surround and conquer. They ringed her in a shifting circle, the ones at her back leaping in to snap at her before she warded them away with a sword-swing. Her face was still, but Sephiroth could feel her rising mental panic. These were not humans, who could be led to attack from one direction and thus dealt with. Given the chance, the animals would lunge in, drag her down, and kill her.

So Sephiroth intervened. One, two, three swings of the seven-foot Masamune and all the Fangs were dead, lying in bleeding, twitching chunks on the ground. Sephiroth was immaculate: Toriko was not. The spray of the dying animals had washed over, baptizing her in copper-scented scarlet and bits of gore. This time, she was mentally still but Sephiroth could see her shaking.

"You did well," he said. "Not bad for your first try."

"Thank you," she said evenly, and promptly fainted.

Sephiroth blinked as Toriko toppled into the blood-spattered grass, not quite sure what he was seeing. "Tori, get up." When she didn't move, he said, "Get up," again, and frowned when she still didn't respond. Walking over to her, he checked her pulse, which was a little fast but still strong.

It took him a few moments to realize that she had actually passed out from a combination of fright, adrenaline, andhorror. The last took him an embarrassingly long time to identify because while he had witnessed the emotion before, he'd never really experienced it. Hence, its touch was as unfamiliar as a chenille blanket. Sephiroth slung Toriko over his shoulder, sheathing her sword and sticking it through his belt. As he began to walk back to the motorcycle, Sephiroth wondered why she had reacted so strongly to killing monsters.

_"It's not like she hasn't seen dead animals before; being in Hojo's lab would have given her ample opportunity to see such things._

"I hope she doesn't faint every time she completes a battle. Someone's not going to be around all the time to scoop her up and carry her back to base."

Luckily, they weren't too far from the bike, where there was a Water materia Sephiroth could use for rinsing Toriko off. She regained consciousness about halfway there and Sephiroth glanced over his shoulder as her waking mind brushed his.

"I fainted," Toriko said, and it was impossible to say exactly what she was feeling.

Sephiroth knelt and let Toriko slide off his shoulder. She looked down at the ground immediately, her short eyelashes masking her expression.

"It's your first brush with violence," Sephiroth said. "It's not entirely unusual. Still, if you're going to be ill, try throwing up next time. It's always better to retain consciousness."

"Yes, Father," she said, not looking at him.

Sephiroth sighed and knelt in front of her, tilting his head so he could read her expression. She looked thoroughly ashamed of herself and turned away so he couldn't see all of her face.

"You'll get better with time," he said. "Don't worry about this."

She nodded, still looking guilty. Sephiroth wondered what to do next. He'd never been one for pep talks, encouraging his soldiers through gruff advice rather than soothing persuasion. So far it had worked, but Sephiroth sensed that it wasn't exactly the correct approach for Toriko.

_"After all, do I want a daughter or a little soldier? Granted, I'd know how to deal with the little soldier, but..."_

"Tori," he said, and was vaguely surprised. When had he started giving her a nickname, or at least shortening her full name? "I'm not disappointed in you. Rather, I'm very proud. You did very well for your first time and your age. I'm not expecting you to be great at this immediately."

She nodded, still not saying anything, and with a sigh Sephiroth reached out and touched her face. Her cheek was tacky with a streak of blood, and Sephiroth licked his thumb to wipe it off. Toriko bore his ministrations stoically and Sephiroth could feel his frustration rising.

"Say something," he said finally, frowning at her.

"I don't think I'm suited for combat." Toriko replied, blinking her gray-green eyes dully.

Sephiroth sighed. "Everyone gets the shakes—"

"You don't."

Sephiroth paused in midsentence. "Well..." he said slowly. "I'm strange. But you're not as strange as I am, so it's normal for you."

"I don't want to do this," she said, closing her eyes. "I'm a girl. I'm not supposed to—"

"Tori," Sephiroth took her by the shoulders, and the physical contact was enough to make her look at him. "You know why I'm teaching you how to fight, don't you? So you never have to depend on anyone?"

"But I'm just a child," Toriko whispered, her large eyes glimmering. "I should be able to depend on you, at least."

"Something could happen to me," Sephiroth said, though he didn't really believe it, not in peacetime. So Toriko wouldn't pick up on his doubts, he went on, saying, "I want to make sure you're looked after, since I'm not married and I wouldn't trust you to any of the Shin-Ra."

"But—" She began tearfully.

"There's no 'buts' about this, Tori," Sephiroth said, shaking his head and maintaining eye contact to show just how serious this was. "You're learning. You're going to hate it, I know, but this is something you have to do. There's no other choice."

She stared at him for a moment, peridotite eyes wide with growing fear and hopelessness. It was almost painful to look at her, but Sephiroth shoved his growing discomfort behind his resolve, cramming it into the dark corner where he kept all the things he wanted to forget. This was for Toriko's good, and there was no reason why either of them should feel uncomfortable about it.

Toriko sniffed and bowed her head, clasping her hands behind her back. "As you wish, Father," she said, her voice quiet but filled to the brim with misery.

Sephiroth patted her cheek. "That's my girl. Now let's get back to camp and get you cleaned off."

Toriko swiped the tears from her eyes and straightened, her expression again schooled and calm. In her usual tone of voice, she said, "Yes, Father. As you wish."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I am guilty of ending chapters very abruptly when I want to move on. Ideally, I want every chapter of any story I write to be able to be a short story (not necessarily a stand-alone) and so end on a nicely rounded note. However… I've spent quite a bit of time on this chapter, as you can tell from the start date at the top of the page. I think it's time to move on.

And Chaos Sparda, the dates at the top of the chapters are when I start them. If there's a huge discrepancy between the start date and the post date, it's because I'm spacing my chapters out in order to give regular updates. The longer the lag time, the more time I'm trying to make in order to type the next chapters.

And just as a reminder, chapter 50's coming up; after that, I'm taking about a month off for retooling and more Whee. Oh yeah, and I'm going to China. That might have something to do with it…

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	42. Happy Thanksgiving!

PYLO Thanksgiving Bonus!

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PYLO (Put Your Lights On) is a fanfiction by kleptomaniac0, which therefore by definition mean that the FFVII characters do not belong to the author and ergo do not garner any profit for said person. If sued, the author will simultaneously freeze and combust. This will result in a local hailstorm of flaming comets. Therefore... Yeah, you get the picture.

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This bit takes place somewhere in the story. That's all I really know. It doesn't fit anywhere in the main plotline, hence the "bonus" in the title. Happy Thanksgiving! Don't stuff yourselves; puking is never fun.

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Toriko's keys jingled as she set them in the lock and opened the door. It had been an uneventful day at school, with the only high point of it being the ride home; apparently Reno had gotten himself into some trouble again and as punishment Tseng had told him that he was to pick Toriko up and drive her home from school for a week. Though Reno had initially sulked over the appointment, it didn't take him long to turn the "punishment" around; first he took Tori out for ice cream and then for coffee, which had the effect of making them giggly the whole way back to the apartment. Toriko hoped she didn't look too hyper; it always annoyed Sephiroth whenever she had excess amounts of sugar.

"T...Tori..."

Toriko paused. Someone inside the apartment was calling her. It sounded like Sephiroth, but he wouldn't be home for several hours yet and besides, Sephiroth never sounded weak. Toriko stepped cautiously into the apartment and shut the door behind her.

"Hello?" She called.

_ "Tori, I'm on the floor," _Sephiroth thought dimly. _ "I can't get up." _

_ "What!" _Toriko dropped her bag and ran around the kitchen counter to see Sephiroth sprawled on the ground; apparently he'd collapsed on his face. _ "Father, what happened?"" _

_ "My biannual exam—I think Hojo doubled my dosage." _

_ "You need to be in bed," _Toriko thought, kneeling by him. She reached out to pick him up and flinched; his skin was burning hot! Steeling herself, Toriko picked up her insensate father and set him on her back, thanking heaven for her upped strength; Sephiroth weighed in excess of two hundred pounds, but that was nothing for her. _ "I'll make you some congee." _

_ "What's congee?" _ Sephiroth asked as Toriko dragged him into her room; she still wasn't comfortable stepping into his.

_ "Good food for sick people," _Toriko said. With a roll and a shrug, she slid Sephiroth into bed and pushed him in, picking up his legs and tossing them onto the mattress. His boots were still on; Toriko rolled up his pants and unzipped the shoes, pulling them off and dropping them on the floor. _ "I used to make it for Mother." _

_ "Ah," _ Sephiroth said weakly. Toriko glanced at him; never had she seen him look so utterly helpless. Eyes half-open, arms spread out, his mouth slightly agape; he looked rather drugged, actually.

"Rest, Father," Toriko said, patting his leg. "You don't look so good."

He chuckled weakly as she tucked him in and she went out to the kitchen, aware of his thoughts idling behind her. He seemed extraordinarily out of it, which to Toriko meant that he was in a great deal of pain—the more scattered one's thoughts were, the greater the physical discomfort. Going into the kitchen, Toriko opened the refrigerator and found a plastic container full of rice; they'd made Wutaiese food the day before and the rice was all that remained. Taking it out, Toriko walked over to the stove and dumped it into a convenient pot, turning on the heat.

"I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves..." Sephiroth sang quietly. "I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves..."

_"…Definitely in a lot of pain," _Toriko thought, smothering a giggle. She added hot water to the rice and stirred them until they were well-mixed; from here it was a waiting game, and Toriko went back to check on Sephiroth as the congee cooked. As she entered the hall, something crunched under her foot; Toriko looked down and frowned when she saw a broken syringe.

_ "Father, why is there an empty needle in the hallway?" _

_ "An empty...? Oh, that. I sedated myself when I got home." _

_ "...I see." _

_ "Don't take that tone with me, young lady. For your information, I've been drugging myself for years." _

_ "And do you always pass out on the floor, Father?" _

_ "...touché." _

Toriko walked into her room, where Sephiroth was lying in the same position she'd left him in; sighing, Toriko walked over and touched her forehead to his. He was still burning hot.

"I'm getting you a cold rag," Toriko said, straightening. "You have a fever."

_ "Wait, don't go!" _

The sudden burst of lucidity, more than the words, made Toriko stop and turn around, frowning. "What is it, Father?"

_"I'm, ah... Damn it, this is why I sedate myself..." _His arm shifted under the covers and Toriko looked down to see his hand slide out from between the blankets. _ "Tori, did you ever hallucinate after a visit with Hojo?" _

_ "No..." _

_ "You're lucky, then..." _

Worried, Toriko took his hand. _ "Is it bad?" _

_ "Sometimes..." _Sephiroth's body twitched violently and Toriko winced as he squeezed her hand hard; she hoped he wasn't going to break any bones. _ "Ugh... Talk to me, Tori." _

_ "About what?" _

_ "Tell me about your day." _

_ "Alright... Umm, I went to school and sat in class. We didn't do anything special. In P.E. we ran the mile and I beat everyone in my grade. We also did the obstacle course and I won that too..." _Sephiroth jerked, his body momentarily flying off the bed. Toriko clutched his hand, thinking harder. _ "Nothing interesting after that... Reno picked me up from school." _

_ "Reno..." _Sephiroth though, strained. It terrified Toriko to hear him so weak, but at least he was responding. _ "The Turk?" _

_ "Yes, Father," _Toriko said, wincing as Sephiroth suddenly gripped her hand; ye gods, he was strong! _ "He said he'd pissed off Tseng, and picking me up from school was his punishment..." _

_ "Hehehe... How did Reno like that?" _

_ "He didn't mind too much, actually," _Toriko said. _"He took me out for ice cream and told me he'd kick my ass if I told anybody cookies-'n'-cream was his favorite." _

_ "Not vanilla?" _

_ "What?" _

Sephiroth chuckled and then hissed as something only he could see attacked him. Toriko clutched his hand, both to calm him and to suppress her own pain, as he flailed against his assailant.

"Guhh..." He choked, his eyes snapping wide. "Gahh..."

Toriko looked frantically around for something to stuff in her father's mouth; he could bite his tongue off if he was really suffering a fit. Seizing a corner of the blanket, Toriko jammed it into Sephiroth's mouth and prayed she hadn't inadvertently killed him as Sephiroth abruptly stopped making gagging noises.

"Father?" She whispered, touching his face.

_ "…you said something about ice cream..." _Sephiroth thought wearily. Whatever inner demon he'd just faced, it was gone now, leaving him feeling drained. _ "Reno likes ice cream..." _

_ "Reno likes cookies-'n'-cream ice cream," _Toriko gently amended. _ "Not vanilla." _

_ "Hehehe..." _Sephiroth's eyelids fluttered. _ "Not vanilla..." _

_ "Father?" _Toriko thought as his grip on her hand eased. _ "Are you going to be alright?" _

_ "Yes..." _A warm effulgence spread out from his thoughts, bathing Toriko with a warmth like sunlight._ "Thank you, Tori..." _

She squeezed his hand, smiling. _ "Any time, Father." _

_ "...I smell something burning." _

Toriko froze. "The congee!" She exclaimed.

_ "Better take care of that," _Sephiroth chuckled. Toriko set his hand down and ran back to the kitchen, where the congee was merrily beginning to smoke. As she snapped the heat off and stuck the pot in the stove, Toriko felt Sephiroth's sedatives finally kick in; when she went to check on him again, he was sound asleep. Toriko knelt by the bed and watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

"Silly daddy," she whispered; only when she was completely sure he couldn't hear her would she ever call him 'daddy'. "What would you do without me?"

Watching Sephiroth breathe was oddly soothing. Picking up the pillow from the opposite side of the bed, Toriko put it on the floor and knelt on it, resting her chin on the bed. If he needed anything, she wanted to be right there when he woke up. But seeing as he was so deeply under, it wouldn't hurt if she took a small nap, right?

" 'Night, daddy," she whispered, and closed her eyes.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Really very squishy. If it's crap, blame it on the Vicodin; I'm on wisdom teeth drugs right now. They're not kidding when they say it $&'ing hurts. But seriously, I'm missing real food. I want MEAT, damn it! Steak! Steeeeeaaaak!

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	43. Chapter 40

Put Your Lights On

11.3.05

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

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Chapter Forty

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Toriko washed the blood off with the aid of a Water materia and changed into a fresh suit of clothes: she'd packed several, thinking something like this might happen. As Toriko had bundled up her bloody clothes and stuffed them into a plastic bag, she found herself becoming numb. Not merely physically numb, though that was bothersome enough when it came to putting on a new shirt and pants: Toriko was emotionally numb, as if she were watching someone else go through the motions of taking off bloody clothes, washing bloody hands, a bloody face. Absently she noted Sephiroth looking at her strangely, almost in concern, as she helped him set up the tent and the campfire.

"Are you alright?" He asked her finally when she tried to open the motorcycle's trunk and failed, her numb fingers slipping over the catch.

"Fine, Father," she said, looking at him. He appeared softer, somehow, as though viewed through the lens of a camera. Maybe that had to do with the fact that he wasn't wearing his usual black leather coat, or maybe because the sun was going down and making everything gentler in its red-gold light. Whatever the reason, Toriko blinked and asked, "Why do you ask?"

"You have a strange look on your face," Sephiroth said, his lips pressing into a line. "I don't know what to make of it."

Toriko shrugged. "If I knew what it looked like, maybe I could tell you."

Sephiroth snorted and walked over to the motorcycle's trunk, opening the compartment and reaching inside to remove several plastic containers. These were the rations Toriko had packed, or rather, had removed from the freezer, where they'd been sitting patiently in storage. They were containers of frozen stew, Sephiroth's special recipe for long camping trips. Toriko watched, mildly amused, as Sephiroth walked to the campfire (already ablaze—materia was a wonderful thing) and upended the containers over the collapsible pot he had hanging over it. The stew chunks fell into the pot with a loud and rather unappetizing splot noise.

"Give them a few minutes," Sephiroth said, glancing at her and noticing her expression. "They're mostly thawed, so we just need to heat them up for a meal. Get the mess kits from the trunk."

Mess kit—the name was quite misleading. Tucked neatly into two slim metal cases, the mess kits held slim knives, forks, and spoons, as well as a surprise: Toriko looked at the bamboo chopsticks in the cases, not sure what to make of them.

"Father," she said, looking at him, and Sephiroth, who'd been peering at the stew, glanced at her. "Do you use these?" She asked, holding up the mess kits and pointing out the chopsticks.

"Of course," he said, making a motion for her to toss over one of the kits. She complied and he took out the chopsticks to poke at the thawing stew, saying, "Cheap, useful, and quite impressive. Somehow it always amazes people when they see me use these."

Toriko smiled and walked over as Sephiroth stirred the soup. Like most of the other things he cooked, the smell was very rich and savory: apparently, it was full of meat. It not only smelled like it, but certainly looked like it: the stew had the viscosity of gravy and large, telltale chunks of brown stuff in it.

"I wonder what we're going to eat at Reeve's house," Toriko said suddenly.

"Indeed," Sephiroth said, frowning. "I hope someone in that house can cook."

Toriko looked at him, amused. "What do you mean?"

Sephiroth glanced at her. "Did you know," he asked, "that there are multiple types of sugars? Sucrose and fructose, to name the most common varieties, and despite being almost the same thing, their tastes are quite distinct, even to normal people. To us—to me, at least—the difference is staggering."

"You're afraid Reeve's wife is going to use the wrong sugar?" Toriko asked, tilting her head.

Sephiroth's expression flattened slightly as he pondered over the most effective way to say what he wanted. "A number of small, almost imperceptible mistakes can ruin a meal," he said finally. "She or Reeve, whoever's cooking, won't intend it, but I'm almost certain their food will offend my senses."

Toriko knew Sephiroth wasn't being arrogant or cocky; he was merely stating one of the downsides of his enhanced senses. Still... "It could be good."

"It could be," he agreed. "In any case, dinner parties aren't about food, they're about company. We'll be talking most of the time, so hopefully the food will be simple... Which makes mistakes all the more noticeable."

Toriko looked at the soup, which had begun sullenly bubbling during their conversation. "Have you ever made mistakes in cooking?"

"Oh, yes." Sephiroth's mouth quirked. "I've seen a few combustions in my day."

"Combustions?" Toriko asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

"Never leave anything unattended," Sephiroth said. "This applies to all areas of life, not only cooking. I turned around for two seconds to slice some green onions and all of sudden, my oil's on fire."

"Your oil?"

Sephiroth nodded. "Pouring boiling oil over steamed fish improves the taste. Apparently the fumes got too hot and ignited, so I turned around and saw a little flame on the inside of the pot." He lifted the chopsticks from the stew and drew a circle in the air, saying, "And just like that, poof! The oil's on fire."

"What did you do?" Toriko asked, unable to keep from laughing.

"Well, this was about five or six years ago," Sephiroth said thoughtfully. "So I was still quite foolish. I threw water on it."

That sounded logical to Toriko. "That put out the fire right, right?"

"In a manner of speaking... The oil went up in a cloud of flame that scorched my walls and for a while I had no eyebrows."

Toriko almost said, "You're lying!" but the bemused, almost nostalgic look on Sephiroth's face told her he was doing anything but.

"You..." she said instead. "Had no eyebrows?"

"Mm-hmm," he said, and went back to poking the stew. "Nobody noticed. I invest in makeup as well as costume. A few strokes with an eye pencil and it was like nothing ever happened. And they regrew fairly quickly"

A very long moment went by in silence. Toriko struggled to keep the disrespectful laughter she felt from bubbling uncontrollably out of her, and her stoic mask, so good for hiding pain and anger, was twitching under the assault of mirth. Similarly Toriko tried to control her thoughts, but she couldn't help but think, _"Makeup? Costume? Father, have you ever worn a dress? Probably not, but you have a rather trim waist for a man. No doubt you could cut a fine figure in a gown."_

Sephiroth looked at her, his expression souring slightly as he seemed to notice her twitching face.

"When you get to my age," he said, "You'll have dumb stories too."

Toriko burst out laughing. It wasn't that she doubted she'd have dumb stories, it was just that, well...

_"Father saying 'dumb' when not referring to someone who is mute seems so strange!"_

Sephiroth rolled his eyes and stirred the stew, which by now was bubbling energetically and releasing bubbles of thick, meaty scent into the air. Toriko's stomach growled appreciatively and Sephiroth pointed at her with his chopsticks.

"No soup for you," he said, "if you keep cackling at me."

His tone was serious, but his syntax wasn't, and Toriko, feeling a little braver in light of her father's fallibility—the mental image of him without eyebrows was too hard for her to not snicker at—grinned and said, "Yes, Father."

Sephiroth looked at her, his mouth twisting, and for a moment Toriko wondered if he was really angry or annoyed: he usually carried himself with so much dignity and to tell stories of his unwise youth surely cost him something, especially when someone was laughing at him as sincerely as she was. She immediately sobered and edged a step back, suddenly apprehensive.

But then Sephiroth rubbed his mouth and she saw the now-familiar glimmer in his bright green eyes that meant he was hiding a smile. Toriko smiled back and sat across the fire from him, drawing her knees up to her chest so she could rest her chin on them. The warmth from the fire matched the growing warmth in her chest, loosening some of the protective numbness that had been slowly filling her up.

"I don't understand you," she said quietly, more to herself than him. Sephiroth blinked and glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "How is that you can do such terrible things and still be so..."

Sephiroth looked back at the soup and didn't say anything, stirring instead. Imperceptibly the sky turned from pale blue to white-red, blending to the shades of fire in the distance. Toriko closed her eyes, comfortable in the silence.

"I've never had a problem with it," Sephiroth said suddenly. Toriko opened her eyes and blinked when she saw him looking unusually pensive, his white brows almost drawing to a point over his nose. Looking up at her, he asked, "Does it look that strange?"

"It looks like you have a switch for your evilness or something," Toriko said, tilting her head. "It makes me nervous sometimes..."

"You still think I'll hurt you?" Sephiroth asked, his expression imperceptibly tightening.

"The potential is always there, Father," Toriko said. "I'd just like to know what your willingness to carry it out would be."

Sephiroth sighed quietly/exhaled loudly—was that signaling resignation and regret, or pure annoyance? Toriko listened carefully to her father's next words to determine his mood.

"I don't know how to address this fear of yours towards me," he said, looking at the soup. By now it was billowing, sending clouds of fragrant white smoke into the air. Toriko's mouth began to water in anticipation and she smiled when she saw Sephiroth reaching for the plastic containers he'd brought the frozen soup in: apparently they doubled as bowls. Picking up a ladle from the compact cooking kit he had at his side, he continued, "I will, however, say that there is no 'switch for evilness' in me: I deal as peacefully or as violently as the situation calls for, and above all, I act with reason. Here."

"Thank you," Toriko said, taking the container of soup. "So I must understand how you think, then, if I am to know what the most reasonable course is."

"Reason is universal," Sephiroth said, frowning. "You can arrive at any one of my conclusions if you think hard enough, which you shouldn't have to: you're my daughter, after all, and that lends you certain advantages when it comes to thinking."

"Should I say thank you?"

Sephiroth scoffed. "If you want. In any case, if you're ever in doubt about me, reason your way through it. Since I try not to put emotion into any decisions I make, you'll have a few clear facts to base your decision off of, and only one conclusion you can arrive at."

Toriko nodded, though inside she was confused. Mother's way of figuring out people was much more complex, which made Toriko feel safer using it: the more points of correlation, the better. Sephiroth's way—to figure out him, at least—was more like math, albeit calculus.

_"The only problem with math is that there's no room for other possibilities. How can one be so sure that things will turn out exactly _this _way?"_

Mother came up with a number of possibilities and prepared for them all. Sephiroth apparently looked at his facts and came up with one possibility, which he prepared solely for.

"That's not right," Sephiroth said suddenly, making Toriko aware she had been unwittingly broadcasting her thoughts. "I think much along the same lines as your mother in my dealings with other people. I imagine your mother thought along my lines when it came to dealing with herself."

"No she—" Toriko almost said before she realized that it was true, at least in part. Seishi was methodical and did reason her way through most of her troubles, like Sephiroth did, but Seishi also relied on her intuition, which Toriko saw as reason compressed. So far, Seishi's intuition had not been wrong.

"Intuition is an underrated tool," Sephiroth said, and Toriko wondered if he was able to look in her head without her knowing, like she sometimes did to him. Conscious of that particular thought, she pushed it to the back of her mind where she hoped Sephiroth couldn't find it.

They ate in silence as the sky darkened to blue-black, and Toriko washed the dishes with the Water materia. When she was done, she found Sephiroth sitting outside the tent, the Masamune resting on his shoulder.

"Good night," he said.

"Good...night," Toriko said slowly, looking from him to the tent and back again. "Aren't you going to...?"

"Monster watch," he said.

"Oh." Something suddenly occurred to her. "What do you do when you're alone?"

"Let them come. I hear them, anyway."

"Even while you're sleeping?"

"Of course. My ear's to the ground, isn't it?"

Toriko wondered how much more sensitive his hearing was than hers. It had taken her a while to get used to the constant roar of traffic in his apartment, far removed from town and high up though it was. The plains were deceptively quiet, but Toriko knew there were some monsters that stomped around only at night...

_"That eat bad little girls... Or anything they can find."_

"Go to sleep," Sephiroth said. "You've had a long day."

"But you—"

"I sleep too much in the city," Sephiroth said dismissively. "Now go to bed. No arguments."

A flare of annoyance guttered in Toriko's breast, one she flicked out with a mental wave. It was his business, not hers, if he decided to brush away her concern in a similar manner. Toriko bowed, murmuring a "Good night, Father," before slipping into the tent. Inside, two cushy sleeping bags were set atop each other to make a decent mattress; Toriko settled on top of them with a prick of guilt, seeing her father's shadow on the wall as he held watch outside.

"Are you sure?" She couldn't resist asking.

"Yes. Good night, Tori."

"Good night, Father."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Sorry for the slowdowns. It's getting toward the end of the quarter and I've been buckling down on study, as I should have been doing this whole time... Instead of being on Whee. :sigh:

But hooya! Chapter 40. I'm proud of myself. Though I won't be really proud of myself until I hit chapter 100. The longest story I ever wrote was 500 pages; I want to top that.

/\/\/\/\/\


	44. Chapter 41

Put Your Lights On

11.9.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Forty-One

/\/\/\/\/\

Seishi examined a fallen strand of her hair, rolling it between her fingers to watch it catch the light. It glowed in the morning light, like the downy edge of a torn rice paper or fabric. It glowed silver.

"Damn it," she swore softly, clenching the strand. The bone-deep ache that accompanied all her movements flared dully at this, burning into her failing muscles and rotting skin. Seishi eased her grip and let the strand fall to the floor, where it gleamed like someone else's silver hair. Seishi swiped it away angrily and flinched when a flare of pain in her shoulder punished her for her rash action.

"My lady?" Tsukiko came up behind her, concern in her voice. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Seishi said, turning slightly to look at her. Eleven years old, Tsukiko's face was still round with the vestiges of babyhood; not like Toriko, who already looked grown at the same age. But her face had the same shape as Toriko's, and her hands were almost as gentle... "Help this old woman to her feet."

Tsukiko knelt by her and Seishi looped one arm around her slight shoulders, grunting when the girl began to stand and lever her up. It took a long, painful time; Seishi missed Toriko's strength, which at seven had been great enough to take her mother by the obi and pull her to feet. Seishi wondered how much stronger her daughter was now.

"Has Nanashi called?" Seishi asked when she was finally on her feet, her weakening legs trembling. She clutched Tsukiko's shoulder until the feeling passed, leaving her feeling tired and drained.

"Yes, my lady," Tsukiko said. "She says she's found an apartment near the Demon's residence, where she can easily keep an eye on your daughter."

"Good. Anything else?"

"Your daughter sends her regards," Tsukiko said after a moment's thoughts.

"Her regards?" Seishi repeated, frowning. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Never mind... Has the second package already been sent?"

"Yes, my lady. Suzu had it put in the mail as soon as Nanashi called."

"Excellent." What a nice, efficient little system she had; it was so nice not to have to oversee everything her subordinates did. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes, my lady," Tsukiko said. "It's nearing the sixth year anniversary of the war's end, and the foreigners are coming to visit to affirm that Wutai is following the bounds of the treaty..."

Seishi snorted. "As if we could muster arms or materia... I suppose Lord Godo is looking for some entertainment?"

"Yes, my lady," Tsukiko said, nodding. "But there is one problem..."

Seishi stopped and looked at her now hesitating young aide, frowning slightly. "...The Demon's coming." She said as Tsukiko's eyes slid away from hers.

Tsukiko nodded, looking down at the ground. "We know how you feel about him."

Seishi exhaled. Quietly she checked herself for signs of perturbation: difficulty breathing, increased heartbeat, nausea, flashbacks. Nothing happened.

_"Well of course nothing would happen. Eleven years of remembrance have acclimated me to the horror. This was what I have trained myself for..."_

"This is a house of geisha," Seishi said, making Tsukiko look up. "We are not prostitutes, we are performers. The Demon will be...tolerated here as long as he keeps his hands to himself."

"Are you sure, my lady?" Tsukiko asked, worried.

"I won't be having any contact with him," Seishi said. "And this is an opportunity that cannot be missed. In addition to having the prestige of hosting the foreigners, Lord Godo is still noticeably widowed; one of our girls should fix that."

"Won't there be trouble from the noble houses?" Tsukiko wondered. "I know at least four families are trying to get him to remarry..."

"Who said anything about remarriage?" Seishi snorted. "I tried marriage once; it disagreed with me. I daresay most of our girls, a full half of whom are probably kunoichi in training, would find that option similarly distasteful. No, I'm not thinking marriage, but a patron. A geisha can make quite a nice profit off her _danna_, profit that can be repaid to her house for raising her."

"I'll try to do that quickly," Tsukiko promised.

Seishi smiled at her. "Don't worry; I'm not like some of the other _okamisans_, charging interest when the debt is not immediately repaid. The Blue Lotus is considerably more flexible than a regular _o-chaya_, so our profits are greater."

"One-stop entertainment shop?" Tsukiko mused.

Seishi laughed. "You have been waiting on tourists too much, Tsukiko—but that is accurate." She paused thoughtfully. "In any case, the summit isn't for several months, isn't it?"

"That's correct, my lady."

"Plenty of time to prepare, then. Have Suzu make our services known to Lord Godo's inner circle; they will pressure him into selecting us when the other houses go directly for Godo himself."

"Yes, my lady. Anything else?"

"On the summit? Not for now. But let's keep an open mind, hmm?"

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

The ending here is really abrupt, but I only put down this chapter to recharge my PYLO batteries. One of the fun things of this story for me is the wide variety of POV's, and to be honest, writing constant Sephiroth-Toriko interaction is leaving me drained. I think I'll noodle around with the Turks or something. Maybe more Reeve's family.

And don't worry, the dinner is forthcoming. Wait, like, ten chapters or something. I need to get Sephiroth and Toriko out of the grasslands and then Reeve and his family out of Costa del Sol. Neither of those events will take five chapters apiece, but I've got to lead up and all that stuff... So yeah. Yup. Be patient please.

On a side note, it's nearing chapter 50, and when that happens I'll be taking about a month or two off PYLO to go back and tweak it up; clean up typos, inconsistencies, that sort of thing. No major rewrites are planned, so don't worry about having to go through everything in order to see what's up; if I've changed anything, I'll tell you in Chapter 51's A/N. Okay, ta!

/\/\/\/\/\


	45. Chapter 42

Put Your Lights On

11.14.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Forty-Two

/\/\/\/\/\

The relative silence of the plains usually came as a relief after Midgar, but Sephiroth found himself unable to relax. Sitting awake with a sword brought back memories of the war, when guard duty had been a distasteful but necessary duty. God, those times had been nerve-wracking. The ninja armies that struck like black lightning were enough to give any Continental soldier night terrors, and Sephiroth had been no exception. There was just something too damn eerie about an opponent who could melt into the shadows, vanish before your eyes, and die without making a single sound... Which was why Sephiroth had done his game best to make every one he caught scream, at least a little, before the end. _"Let my opponents be human, not some bogeymen that'll haunt me in my sleep..."_

But there were no ninjas now. Well, there was that one kunoichi, but if she'd come bearing gifts, it was highly unlikely she'd try to kill him. Grasslands weren't really the ninja scene anyway; those were more a samurai's thing, and a samurai wouldn't attack at night. Typically. But anyway—no ninjas. No samurais. Nobody trying to kill him or Toriko...

Sephiroth could hear her breathing in the tent, a soft rise and fall; it sounded like she was a light sleeper, like him. His ears pricked as she whispered in her sleep.

"Mother..."

Sephiroth frowned and looked over his shoulder. Though he couldn't see Toriko through the thick fabric of the tent, he could still hear her talking.

"Mother... Mommy..."

_"She's probably reliving the lab," _Sephiroth thought. _"Anyone would call for their mother there—me included, though I remember doing more of 'Why aren't you helping me' than just asking..."_

He closed his eyes and eased into her sleeping mind, which was easier than he expected; but then again, people were usually unguarded when they slept. Sephiroth found himself looking through Toriko's eyes, and judging by how tall everything seemed to be around her, Sephiroth estimated she was probably about five or six—pre-Hojo, at the very least, since Sephiroth was very certain she'd never been to _this_ kind of establishment while they'd been together.

_"So this is where she learned about sex and things..." _Sephiroth thought with a slight shudder. Information had begun seeping into his mind as soon as he'd done into Toriko's head, and one of the principal facts was that the place she was in now—run-down, mostly made of wood, and smelling strongly of opium—was a whorehouse, one ill-established Blue Lotus that she and Seishi reluctantly called their dwelling. Seishi was nowhere in sight; she was upstairs, playing the koto she'd carried since her ejection from the Shusaku household. At the moment, Toriko was looking for the madam, running a request from Seishi for new koto strings.

"Hey, li'l girl," a man slurred, and Toriko/Sephiroth looked up to see an unwashed man grinning toothlessly down at her/them. "Whasschu doin' inna place like thish?"

Toriko edged away, eyeing the man distrustfully. "...live here," she said, sidling away from him.

"C'mere, lemme seeya," he said, reaching for her. The alcohol that slurred his words slowed his reflexes and Toriko jumped out of the way, his meaty hand just missing her. "Shtay still, you."

"No," Toriko said, turning away. She flinched as he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Let go!"

"Yer Seishi's kid, aren't ya?" The man asked, breathing alcohol into her face. Toriko/Sephiroth recoiled at the smell. "The one everyone says is Demonspawn?"

"Let go!" Toriko snapped, yanking her arm away. The man grabbed her again, this time with both hands, and stared into her face.

"Yeah..." he breathed. "Yeah, I can see 'im on ya..."

"Mother!" Toriko shouted, wriggling. The man had pinned her arms to her sides and her legs weren't quite in the right position to kick him in the bad place. "Mother!"

"Shut yer trap, you," the man said and hit her across the face. Toriko's head jerked, but she was not stunned in the least.

"Mother!" She screamed, wrenching out of the man's grasp. "Mother, help me!"

"Heyheyhey, donchu go nowheres!" The man roared drunkenly, staggering to his feet. "I ain't done w'you! Fuggin' Demonspawn!"

Tori ran fast, but the man had longer legs, and even drunk he caught up to her, grabbing her by the back of her robe and hoisting her off the ground. Toriko shrieked as her feet left the floor, kicking wildly. The man hit her again, making her spin with the force of the impact. Briefly she saw the man's face, creased with drunken rage; Sephiroth realized he must have been a vet.

"Gonna beat th'evil outta you," he snarled, punching her in the stomach. Toriko gagged, clutching at her abdomen. "Gonna kick yer ass—"

"Mommeeeeeeee!" Toriko screamed.

"Mommy" never came. The man continued beating her, and eventually Sephiroth pulled himself back to the plains, shuddering and inexplicably cold. Setting down the Masamune, Sephiroth crept around to the front of the tent and pulled back the flap, looking in at Toriko. She was curled into a little ball at the back of the tent, almost lost among the piled sleeping bags. Her face was wet with tears.

"Mommy..." She whispered miserably.

Sephiroth let the flap drop closed. He felt sick, though he wasn't sure why. Picking up the Masamune again, Sephiroth got to his feet and took a deep breath, trying to expel the thick, unwieldy emotion that was clogging up his throat. He wanted to kill something—preferably Seishi—but he didn't want to leave Toriko alone. While going into the tent to comfort her would give her nightmares he didn't even to imagine—again, a reason to kill Seishi—Sephiroth was reluctant to leave her side.

"Tori," he called, turning around. "Tori, wake up."

"Mm..." She muttered sleepily.

Sephiroth lightly kicked the tent. "Wake up."

"Whazzi?" Toriko mumbled, stirring inside.

"Whazzi" indeed? "I want to show you something."

"Mm-hmm..." A second later, a drowsy Toriko pulled herself out of the tent. Sephiroth noticed she had wiped the tearstreaks off her face. "Yes, Father?"

"Look up," he said, faking with all his might.

Toriko looked up. "…okay."

"Do you know how to navigate by the stars?"

"No..."

Hallelujah. Anything to keep her from going back to sleep. "I'll show you, then."

"...okay," she said, confusion clearly on her face. "Can I lie down as long we're looking up?"

"Yes," Sephiroth said, and Toriko lay down on the grass. After a moment's thought, Sephiroth lay down too, his head next to hers. "Alright, the first thing is to find the North Star..."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Hmm, child abuse. You knew it was going to be in there somewhere.

In this chapter, Tori was originally going to kill the man, but I thought that'd be a bit much for her psyche even though it'd solve some problems later on down the line… Being desensitized to violence would be great considering what she's being prepped for. But a killer at five? Nah. It just didn't fly.

And Seishi didn't show up for a number of reasons. One, this is fragmented dream bit; even if she did show up, Sephiroth didn't stick around to see that. Two, Seishi wouldn't really have been able to do anything. She's sick and weak, and any retaliation against a man (and a combat vet too) would have made her and Tori the targets of retribution. In the worst-case scenario, everyone in the Blue Lotus would have suffered. I'm not saying Seishi did the right thing by hanging back—if I'd been in her shoes, I'd've killed the SOB & gone on the run—but stepping in would have probably secured a death warrant for her and her daughter.

/\

And considering what just happened in this chapter, it seems a really weird place to put this, but I have to give a shout-out to my mom. When I started writing fics seven years ago, she asked me to print them out so she could read them, and thus began my informal training as a writer. She gave me a lot of tips and tricks I still use today, and guess what? She's still reading my fics. She's reading this one actually, though she can't stand looking at a computer for long, and it just makes me so happy and proud that I have to share it with everyone.

After all, your first fan is always your mom.

/\/\/\/\/\


	46. Chapter 43

Put Your Lights On

11.21.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Forty-Three

/\/\/\/\/\

The rest of the weekend passed without incident. Sephiroth taught her to track, navigate, and even hunt a little before heading back to Midgar. He seemed subdued, though Toriko wasn't sure why, and he didn't give her the opportunity to look in his head. But Toriko didn't mind; the impromptu camping/training trip kept her physically and mentally busy enough not to care. It was with a surprising amount of reluctance Toriko suddenly realized that they had to go back to Midgar.

"What am I supposed to do when we go back there?" Toriko asked as she helped Sephiroth clean up the campsite.

"Take a shower," Sephiroth said, looking at her. "Or a bath."

Okay, so that was one reason to look forward to Midgar. "When are we going to Reeve's house for dinner?"

"When he comes back from Costa del Sol," Sephiroth said. "Not for a couple days yet. Why?"

"Just curious," Toriko said. The camping trip had also made her more comfortable speaking to her father; she wasn't so worried about his reactions now that she had seen him in action, so to speak. "Reeve seems like a nice man."

Sephiroth snorted. "As nice as an Executive can get. I remember once when monsters invaded Midgar and the Garrison didn't mobilize fast enough for his liking. I was in Junon at the time, but there was quite a nasty letter on my desk when I came back..." Sephiroth chuckled. "He probably forgot he sent me that."

"Monsters invaded Midgar?" Toriko said in surprise.

"Yes," Sephiroth said. "You didn't think those high walls were just for show, did you?" Running his hand through his hair, Sephiroth said, "Monsters tend to rove in packs and are always in search of meat. If someone's stupid enough to leave a door open—or if the mechanics fail and leave a door open—then monsters stream into Midgar in search of easy prey. They're not like regular animals, which will go out of their way to avoid humans; monsters will actually come after people."

"Scary."

"Indeed. That, if anything, is a reason you should learn how to fight."

"I know," Toriko said mildly. By now she was accustomed to the idea of combat, though still not enthusiastic about it. Sephiroth nodded and closed the motorcycle's trunk.

"Good," he said. "Let's go."

Toriko climbed onto the motorcycle and Sephiroth got on behind her, starting the machine up with the twist of a key. The black monster came to life with a growl and Toriko felt her insides quiver.

_"But why am I scared of this thing?" _She thought with a frown._ "I've faced wolves and other monsters over this trip, and they were actively trying to kill me. The motorcycle's just a machine..."_

"Not flattening yourself this time around?" Sephiroth asked as she sat up a little.

"I want to look up," she said, smiling a little at him.

He smiled back, twisting his long hair into a knot at the back of his head. It was quite an elaborate process, how he managed to tuck almost three feet of fine silver-white hair into a tight helmet; the ease and speed at which he did so told Toriko he had practiced this move extensively.

"Good girl," he said, his voice slightly muffled by the helmet. "Off we go."

He leaned forward, gripping the handlebars, and Toriko was forced to lean down a little to accommodate the bulk of his body. Dirt and grass sprayed in a raw arc as Sephiroth pulled the monstrous motorcycle around and kicked into high gear, speeding back toward Midgar. The early morning sun was a white-gold glimmer on the horizon, but had ascended well into the sky by the time the Midgar Highway came into sight.

_ "Ready to duck and weave?" _Sephiroth asked her.

Toriko swallowed, her newfound courage wilting a little. _ "...as ready as I'll ever be." _

_ "We can work with that," _Sephiroth said philosophically. The wind whipped by as he accelerated toward the beadlike line of traffic, leaning against the motorcycle. Tori found herself pressed against the rumbling machine again. _ "It won't be long now." _

_ "I'll take your word for it," _ Toriko said, shutting her eyes.

It was hard to decide what was more terrifying; on the one hand, flitting through traffic with her eyes open made Toriko horribly aware of the proximity of thousand-pound vehicles zooming around her, all of which would be able to seriously hurt her if not kill her. On the other hand, having her eyes closed made Sephiroth's sharp turns come as incredibly unwelcome surprises, ones that threatened to make her vomit with every pass.

_ "Don't you dare throw up on my motorcycle, Tori." _

_ "I'll try not to, but I can't help it if sudden motions upset me." _

At that, Sephiroth mentally grumbled and began to drive in a smoother fashion.

It was sometime around noon when they arrived back at the apartment; Sephiroth tossed her the house keys and told her to take the trunks up while he tended to the motorcycle. Toriko squashed her annoyance at being ordered around like a servant and complied, though her stomach was still turning flipflops. As she climbed the twenty flights of stairs leading to their apartment, though, Toriko found herself gladder that Sephiroth had sent her up alone.

_"I think I really do need to throw up..."_

Which she did after putting the trunks on the kitchen counter. Sephiroth came up as soon as she finished flushing the toilet and her mouth of the vomit, and he put away the things in the trunks while she brushed her teeth. It was a peculiar but functional modus operandi that Toriko couldn't help but notice.

_"He complained of me being inconsistent, but his alternating "hard master" and "father" moods are just as confusing..."_

As Toriko rinsed her mouth of toothpaste, she heard Sephiroth checking his messages outside.

"Hello, Sephiroth; this is Reeve. Just wanted to know if you were still interested in coming by for dinner; if you stop by my office, we can discuss times. Meryl is quite interested in meeting Toriko, as are Rose and Naomi." Here Reeve coughed, sounding slightly uncomfortable, and finished saying, "See you on Monday."

Beep. "This is President Shin-Ra. You haven't given me any progress on how the AVALANCHE hunt is going: therefore, I can only assume there is none. I expect a full report of your investigation on Monday morning."

"Jackass," Sephiroth grumbled, and Toriko heard him moving around in the kitchen. No doubt he was cooking something, though out of necessity or to relax himself Tori didn't know.

Third message. This one was from a husky-voiced woman, who said, "Hello, Sephiroth; Scarlet here. Just calling to let you know that your special order's ready... As is another order, this one from Shin-Ra. It appears that the MP's are to be reissued new ammo, and therefore..."

"Wench," Sephiroth grumbled. "As if your department doesn't get enough funding."

"Do you talk to yourself often while listening to the answering machine?" Toriko asked, walking out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.

"It's a bad habit," he grunted, and winced as Scarlet laughed in an earsplitting "Kyahaha!" Sighing, Sephiroth looked at Toriko and said, "But it's not like they'll hear me, so it's fairly harmless."

There was a fourth beep, signaling another message. "You're popular, Father," Toriko commented as a new voice came on.

"Sir, this is Tseng of the Turks," said a cultured voice Toriko knew well. "There's some new information on the AVALANCHE front that I thought you should be aware of. Apparently there's been a break within the organization, with one faction continuing their anti-Shin-Ra activities and the other pursuing the goal of "Planetary cleansing". We're not sure what they mean, but the Ancient appears to be their rallying point."

"The Ancient?" Toriko asked, looking at Sephiroth curiously.

Sephiroth smirked, but motioned for her to stay silent. Tseng's message was apparently quite a long one.

"I'm conducting an investigation into the Ancient's involvement, and I have several people on the neo-AVALANCHE faction. I'll have the full report for you in the morning, sir. Have a good night."

The machine whined, signaling the end of the messages. Sephiroth chuckled and hit the 'erase' button. As the machine whirred, Toriko slid into a chair and asked, "What's an Ancient?"

"The Ancient," Sephiroth said, opening the cupboards above the stove and rummaging through them, "is a fourteen-year-old flowergirl who lives in the Sector Five slums. She's one of Hojo's prized specimens..."

"She is?" Toriko exclaimed, blinking.

"More accurately, she was," Sephiroth said, turning around and facing her. "I'm not sure what the circumstances were, but about four years ago she escaped from the lab, along with her mother... The mother's whereabouts are unknown, but the girl is definitely in the Sector Five slums."

"Why haven't you turned her in to Hojo?" Toriko asked, frowning.

Sephiroth's brows rose. "Why _would_ I?"

Toriko had to think about that one. It wasn't as though Sephiroth wanted or even needed to be on Hojo's good side, and Tori remembered hearing him say something like, "I wouldn't inflict Hojo on anyone".

"You could get in trouble if you don't..." Tori said lamely, looking at her father through her eyelashes.

"I could," Sephiroth said with a shrug. Turning around to go through the cabinets again, he continued talking, saying, "But the girl—the Ancient—she has a very specific purpose, one she will not accomplish against her will. If we were to bring her in by force, she might decide to bite her tongue off and bleed to death."

Toriko startled. "She would actually choose death?"

"It seems quite odd, but from what Tseng's told me of the girl, she's rather proud." Sephiroth frowned as he apparently did not find what he was looking for. Toriko stood up on the rungs of her high chair and opened another cabinet just as Sephiroth reached for it, and his hand found the elusive cooking oil. "In her own way, the girl's a warrior, and I respect her for that."

_"How remarkable," _Toriko thought, tilting her head at her father, _"considering what your opinions of women were in the past." _

_ "What opinions?" _Sephiroth thought, looking at her in surprise. _ "I don't think poorly of women." _

_ "But you raped them." _

Sephiroth rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. _ "Well, yes, but that was just another type of warfare. We had_ _to do it to damage morale..." _

That sounded suspiciously weak. _ "You don't like women very much, do you, Father?" _

_ "Well... They're exasperating and I prefer the company of men, but..." _ He trailed off and looked away, his eyes sliding from hers.

_ "I'm not angry," _Toriko said, amused by his embarrassment. _ "I suspected as much anyway. Most men think women are weak." _

_ "Women aren't weak," _Sephiroth said shortly, surprising Toriko with the brusqueness of his answer. _ "They just handle things differently. Sometimes they handle things better than men..." _

_ "Like what?" _Toriko asked, intrigued.

Sephiroth glanced at her. _ "You've arguably had a harder life than me, and yet you somehow manage to smile..." _

That shocked Toriko so much that she nearly fell off her chair. As it was, she stared openly at her father, her mouth slightly agape, as her mind scrabbled for explanations.

_ "You're bullshitting," _she thought finally.

Sephiroth's brows rose. _ "Excuse me?" _

_ "You're _bullshitting,_" _Toriko thought forcefully, almost angrily. _ "Why are you doing this?" _

_ "Doing what?" _

_ "This whole 'women aren't weak' thing!" _Toriko though, just barely managing not to wave her arms. _ "I know you don't like women, but the only reason you're saying things like this is because I'm your daughter and you don't want to hurt my feelings or something stupid like that!" _

Sephiroth went on cooking, visibly oblivious, but Toriko suddenly shivered as the air seemed to drop thirty degrees, freezing almost into a solid block, a wall, around her father. _ "And what is so bad about me worrying about your feelings?" _

_"I don't worry about yours,"_ Toriko wanted to say. _"So don't make me feel bad because you worry about mine."_

Instead she thought weakly, _ "It just...it confuses me..." _

Sephiroth turned and looked at her for a long time, not saying anything, and Toriko could feel herself beginning to sweat. His look was still quite cold, and the ambient temperature dropped several degrees because of the expression in his feline eyes. At length Sephiroth looked away and Tori could breathe again.

"Get the plates out," Sephiroth said, and Toriko looked at him; he was back to normal, visually at least. His mind still flickered with unquiet. "Time to eat."

"Yes, Father," Toriko said, sliding out of her chair to comply.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

That Sephiroth would know where Aeris is and is deliberately withholding the information from Hojo makes me grin. After all, if Tseng knew where to find her and Sephiroth is Tseng's boss here, it stands to reason Sephiroth would know. And gleefully hide the information. I'm debating whether or not to have them meet, but I'm thinking it's more likely they don't: aside from the weak link of Aeris going out with Zack, there's no reason for them ever to become acquainted.

Sephiroth's feelings towards women are confused: he's had no strong mother or female figure in his life, so living with Toriko is constantly reshaping his perceptions. He's also aware that what he thinks will pretty much go directly to Toriko, so he's trying to think nice thoughts—but again, he has no frame of reference. Let the parental flailing ensue!

/\/\/\/\/\


	47. Chapter 44

Consider this a holiday treat: two chapters at once! Booya! Actually, my scheduling got thrown off... Darn vacation! Made me all sleepy...

Put Your Lights On

11.29.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Forty-Four

/\/\/\/\/\

"Yes sir, I know we're supposed to be cutting corners, but these are the city gates; if we don't maintain them, then monsters will—no, SOLDIER is more than capable of taking care of them, but—well, yes sir, I have complete confidence in Sephiroth's abilities..."

From the sounds of things, Reeve was having a phone conversation with President Shin-Ra. Sephiroth waited outside the door, listening in.

"It's just that in the long run, it'd cost less to maintain the doors than it would be to constantly train new military personnel..." Reeve trailed off. Sephiroth could imagine what was going on at the other end of the line: President Shin-Ra made it no secret that he believed having the military visible more often than not kept people aware of Shin-Ra's might.

"_The stick to the carrot, so to speak..." _Sephiroth thought sourly._ "We're a constant reminder of Shin-Ra's power to hurt you if you don't obey."_

"...Yes, sir." Reeve said, sounding defeated. "I'll do that. Thank you for your time, Mr. President."

There was a clicking noise and Reeve sighed, probably pinching the bridge of his nose or some other headache-warding gesture. Sephiroth gave him a few seconds to compose himself before knocking on the door.

"Good god, what is it now?" Reeve yelled. Apparently he had not been having a good day. Sephiroth opened the door and peeked in.

"Should I come back later?" He asked politely.

Reeve twitched guiltily. "No, no, you're fine. Please, come in."

"Thank you," Sephiroth said, stepping into Reeve's office. It was the same size as his, which Sephiroth thought was slightly unfair; Reeve was in sore need of more space. Sephiroth heard the older man cough in embarrassment as he wended his way around carts and extra tables filled to overflowing with papers. "Rough day?" He asked.

"The Fat Man's in a foul mood," Reeve said sourly; Sephiroth made a note to delete that comment from the Turk-placed surveillance in Reeve's office.

"That's probably my fault," Sephiroth said apologetically, settling into one of the two chairs facing Reeve's desk. "I told him some things this morning he didn't want to hear."

"AVALANCHE hunt?" Reeve inquired.

Sephiroth nodded. The Executives were usually up-to-date on their colleagues' latest projects; Reeve's knowledge came as no surprise. "Apparently they've split into two different factions, both with a potential for violence."

"Great," Reeve said, grimacing. "More things to repair."

Sephiroth suppressed a smile. Only an engineer like Reeve would think of the potential damage as 'things to repair', not 'lives lost'... Not that Sephiroth was holding it against him. He tended to think much the same way.

"Speaking of repairs, what's wrong with the gates?"

Reeve rolled his eyes. "The usual; hydraulics needing work, corroding metal, monster goo in the gears... Did you know there's a family of Neurosuferoths that likes to live _inside_ the gates?"

Sephiroth blinked. "No, I wasn't aware of that."

"One of my inspectors was checking out the South Gate and had one of them jump on his face," Reeve said. He looked sour, but his face was twitching. "That was a rather unpleasant surprise."

"I'd think so," Sephiroth agreed, thinking of his myriad encounters with Muus.

Reeve sighed and raked his hand through his hair; for a man nearing forty, it was still very thick and black. Sephiroth wondered if he dyed it.

"_If he does, maybe I could try it for the next time I go out... God knows any dye just washes right out of my hair."_

"But enough about that," Reeve said, sitting up. "How's Toriko?"

"Recovering," Sephiroth said, remembering that Tori was supposed to be sick. "How's your family?" He asked, aware of social niceties.

"Good, good," Reeve said, and the absentminded smile of pride that most fathers took on when discussing their families came over his face: Sephiroth wondered if he looked that way when talking about Toriko. "Meryl's been looking forward to meeting Toriko, and Naomi's glad to have someone over for dinner."

Sephiroth noticed that Reeve didn't mentioned Rose, the daughter who had a poster of him in her bedroom. He thought about mentioning it, but decided not to make Reeve squirm. It was fun, but a little mean to do to the person who was inviting him over for dinner.

"_To the _first _person who's invited me over to dinner, come to think of it."_

"How does Friday at six sound to you?" Reeve inquired.

"Sounds fine," Sephiroth said. It was then he suddenly became aware of a purring noise; Sephiroth surreptitiously glanced around, wondering where the sound was coming from. It seemed to be in Reeve's lap, but Sephiroth wasn't about to lean over the desk to see what was in there.

"Are you allergic to anything?" Reeve asked, one hand sliding beneath the desk. Sephiroth tried not to notice.

"Not that I'm aware of," he replied. "And neither is Tori."

The purring noise increased. Sephiroth shoved bad mental images out of his mind. Reeve did something underneath the desk—there was a click—and the purring noise stopped.

"Great," Reeve said. "I'd hate to accidentally poison you."

"Don't worry," Sephiroth said. "I doubt I'd die."

"But it's bad manners," Reeve said, opening his eyes wide. Sephiroth snorted before he could stop himself.

"Urgent call from home!" Something chirped from Reeve's lap.

Sephiroth blinked and watched as Reeve went pale. "Uh..." Reeve laughed nervously, turning red. "You don't mind if I, uh...?"

"Go right ahead," Sephiroth said, waving at him. "I don't mind."

"...thanks," Reeve said, still red, and Sephiroth stared as Reeve picked a huge brown and black tabby cat up from his lap. "I'll explain later," Reeve said uncomfortably. Pressing one of the cat's forepaws, he said, "Hello?"

"Dad?" It was a teenage girl's voice.

"Rose, what is it?" Reeve asked, glancing at Sephiroth.

"Have you invited the General over yet?"

Reeve twitched. Sephiroth tried his best not to smile.

"Uh..." Reeve stalled. "Um... Rose, the call said this was urgent."

"It is!" She shot back. "How am I supposed to know what to wear?"

Reeve twitched violently, one hand flying up to his mouth so he could chew on his knuckles. Sephiroth rose and mouthed, "Maybe I should go," to the horrified father. Reeve nodded enthusiastically and Sephiroth crept carefully out of the room as Rose added, "Dad? Are you there?"

"You..." Reeve sputtered. "Why do you need to know what to wear!"

"Because I don't want to look bad, Daddy!" Rose said, a pleading note in her voice. There was a pause before she said innocently, "I swear I'm not trying to seduce him or anything."

Sephiroth glanced over his shoulder as Reeve clenched his fists and shook them at the ceiling in a paroxysm of "Why me, Lord?" He looked so incredibly ridiculous that Sephiroth snorted and began snickering.

"Ohmigod!" Rose shrieked. "Is that _him!_"

"YES!" Reeve yelled into the cat/phone, totally red in the face. "Yes it is!"

Rose hung up with a little scream and Sephiroth laughed harder. Reeve exhaled slowly and looked at Sephiroth with flat eyes.

"It's not that funny," he growled.

"No," Sephiroth chuckled, wiping his eyes. "It's hilarious."

Reeve sunk behind his desk, mortification coloring his face blotchy red. "...get out of my office."

"Thank you for your call," the cat/phone said sweetly.

"And what did that cat ever do to you?" Sephiroth asked, pointing.

"It's a stuffed cat," Reeve said, reaching out and picking it up. Hugging it against his chest like a toy, he said, "I made it during college and I can't make myself get rid of it. It scares the bejeezus out of Naomi, so I keep it here."

"And you put a phone in it."

"It's also got wireless access and a basic AI," Reeve said. He was stroking the cat now, which looked remarkably lifelike; it watched Sephiroth with golden eyes that he could faintly see the irising lenses of. "It's safe to say that it's one of the more complicated machines in the building."

Sephiroth began to get interested. "Really?"

Reeve nodded and put the cat on the desk. Giving it a light push, he said, "Be nice to Sephiroth," and Sephiroth watched, surprised, as the cat padded across Reeve's desk and jumped off it, landing on the floor with a distracting clunk.

"Doesn't that hurt the mechanics?" Sephiroth asked as the cat/phone walked up to him and wound around his legs. He could feel the metal frame through the cat's fur and padding, but it was still soft and hard in the right places: remarkably lifelike.

"Not one bit," Reeve said, smiling. Now that he wasn't being embarrassed by his daughter, his face and temperament were going back to normal. "MecKitty can pretty run full tilt into a door and still be okay."

Sephiroth leaned down and picked up the cat. Something Rufus had said a while ago had clicked in his head. "Reeve, could you make another one of these?"

"You want a cat-phone?" Reeve asked, startled.

"No, I want a pet for Tori," Sephiroth said. "But I can't stand the smell of animals, so something like this..."

Reeve rubbed his chin. "Interesting," he said. "I'll think about it. But these things don't come cheap, you know."

Sephiroth gave him a look as he put MecKitty back on Reeve's desk. "Why is it that everybody tries to gouge Peace Enforcement for funds?"

"Because you get the bulk of it," Reeve said, taking the cat and putting it back on his lap. "And who else is trying to gouge you?"

"Scarlet."

Reeve winced. "Ouch. Is it true she takes a pound of flesh?"

"And a gallon of blood," Sephiroth said sourly. "I'm supposed to send someone over to her later today to give her a check for four million gil."

"Four million! What did you order from her?"

"New ammo," Sephiroth said. "For every gun in the army."

Reeve shook his head in sympathy. "Not your idea, I take it?"

"Not at all." Sephiroth sighed and added, "I'm half-tempted to go over there myself and see if I can't bargain down." Turning to go, he said, "I'll see you on Friday."

"See you on Friday," Reeve said, waving as Sephiroth walked out and shut the door behind him.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I got the idea for MecKitty from the Cellular Squirrel (type "squirrel phone" in on Google; it's the first link), though Reeve would definitely have a cat. Instead of dancing like the squirrel does (it actually shakes its head and waves its paws instead of ringing), MecKitty sits in his lap and starts purring when he needs to take a call. That was the vibrating noise Sephiroth was hearing. On silent mode, MecKitty kneads (no claws). MecKitty also talks and no, it does not have a country twang like Cait Sith does. It does, however, sound like a charming little girl.

/\/\/\/\/\


	48. Chapter 45

Put Your Lights On

12.2.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Forty-Five

/\/\/\/\/\

Scarlet's brows rose in surprise as Sephiroth strode in her office. He always looked and felt like the ice king, which made Scarlet wonder just how much heat it would take for him to melt.

"Sephiroth," she cooed, crossing her legs and leaning back behind her desk: she spent more time there than she liked, looking over research proposals and writing grants for her developers. Still, the office reflected her tastes: opulent, expensive, vibrant, and Sephiroth looked to be the antithesis of the first and the last. The contrast tickled her. "This is _quite_ a pleasure."

Sephiroth's brows quirked, but he made no comment. "The price you're asking is ridiculous," he said flatly.

"Four million to refit the entire army with new ammunition?" Scarlet said, lacing her hands over her stomach and smiling. "Darling, you're getting a bargain."

"If this were war, perhaps."

War again. Sephiroth always talked about war. Not surprising, considering his background, but Scarlet wondered if he saw life just as one big battlefield.

"Right now, the army is one third of the size it would need to be to make that price even close to reasonable."

"I beg to differ," Scarlet said, and Sephiroth's eyes flashed. She could just see what was going through his head.

_"Damn it, woman! Don't tell me how to do my job! What do you know of it anyway?"_

"Sephiroth, you're a SOLDIER, so you don't realize just how much the common grunt depends on his gun," Scarlet said, standing up and leaning on the desk. Her posing was deliberate: since she wasn't meeting Rufus today, Scarlet could wear her four-inch stilettos, which put her at exactly Sephiroth's height and theoretically his power level. Women who couldn't be physically looked down upon always made men a little uncomfortable. Plus, flashing breast never hurt anything.

Continuing, Scarlet went on to say, "The new ammunition is offering them the power of a sawed-off shotgun in just a regular assault rifle."

"With the same rapid-fire capability?" Sephiroth asked archly. "And I noticed you haven't said anything about the recoil."

Scarlet wasn't surprised Sephiroth knew at least that much about guns. He was the head of Peace Enforcement, after all, and knowing nothing but swords would be pretty damn stupid. "Would you like a demonstration?" She asked in the arch tone.

"Please," Sephiroth said, though his tone of voice was anything but eager.

A few minutes later they were at the firing range, which was one of the most valuable rooms in the Shin-Ra Building despite being almost nothing but empty space. But it wasn't what was in the room that made it valuable, it was the data that was collected in it, data that was recorded and transmitted by computerized testing guns. Scarlet loaded up one of said guns with the new ammunition and thrust it into Sephiroth's hands.

"Go ahead," Scarlet said, swinging one red-taloned hand to point at the paper target at the far end of the room. It was a hundred and twenty meters away. "Try it."

Sephiroth lifted the rifle and fired. For a moment, Scarlet wanted to laugh at him because he held the double-barreled testing rifle in one hand, gripping it the same way someone would hold a handgun. She looked forward to hearing him swear as he blew out every bone in his wrist with the recoil, but gaped instead as a neat five-inch hole, the radius of the new ammo, surgically blasted through the paper target's head.

"Holy shit," Scarlet swore in awe, looking at Sephiroth with newfound respect.

Sephiroth fired seven more times, nailing the target perfectly with every shot. His hands were a blur as he aimed, fired, and reloaded almost too fast to be seen, and yet his face was calm, businesslike. Scarlet's pulse began to race as she stared at Sephiroth in growing admiration.

"My god," she said, her voice low as he flipped the gun open for the ninth and tenth shots. "I have never been more attracted to you in my entire life."

Sephiroth froze. At once Scarlet burst out laughing at the look on his face, which admittedly wasn't much different from his usual expression: the critical thing was the way the color suddenly drained from his cheeks in the universal expression of horror.

"Do you really find the idea that horrifying?" Scarlet asked, grinning broadly. Putting her hand on his arm, Scarlet ran her fingers over the cabled muscle of his shoulder and up the nape of his neck, saying huskily, "I think we'd make a great team..."

A lesser man in Sephiroth's shoes would have melted into a babbling pile of eager-to-please goo, or maybe a terrified blob. Rufus in Sephiroth's shoes would have laughed and agreed or disagreed, depending on his mood. But Sephiroth was in Sephiroth's shoes, so he just shook her off with an irritated shrug and said, "In your fantasies."

Scarlet laughed again, making Sephiroth glare at her. "Come on," she said. "Doesn't a closer association between Weapons Development and Peace Enforcement intrigue you?"

"Departments, yes," Sephiroth said. "You and me, no."

"Why do you dislike me so much?" Scarlet asked, folding her arms under her breasts. Amazing Sephiroth didn't even glance down—maybe he really was gay. "What have I, personally, ever done to you?"

"It's nothing you've done," Sephiroth replied, reloading the gun. "We just wouldn't get along." Scarlet opened her mouth to protest, but Sephiroth inclined his head slightly toward her and murmured, "Plus... I'd probably break you."

"Break me?" Scarlet repeated, her brows shooting up.

Sephiroth leaned down and picked up one of the shed casings. Holding it in his palm, he wrapped his fingers almost lazily around the empty tube. Scarlet stared when he opened his hand and revealed a crinkled metal bar.

"Yes, break you," Sephiroth said, letting the bar fall to the floor.

Scarlet shook her head slightly, recovering her composure. "No wonder you don't have any lovers."

Sephiroth chuckled and picked up the gun again. He fired twice, and Scarlet clapped as he blew out the target's knees.

"That must be frustrating," Scarlet said, looking at him askance.

"Not as much as you'd think," Sephiroth said, lowering the gun. "Honestly, I just don't think about it."

"Now that you have Toriko?" Scarlet asked slyly.

Sephiroth chuckled again and set down the testing gun. "Even before that. Work is...tiring."

"It's going to get even more tiring that you have a kid," Scarlet said. Leaning on the wall, she asked, "I wonder how you relax in your off-time?"

"Successfully," Sephiroth said with aplomb. "Let me see how the ammunition works in that semiautomatic."

"Be my guest," Scarlet said, picking up the next testing gun as Sephiroth hand-filled the magazine. Privately Scarlet was surprised Sephiroth knew his way around the manual cartridges: they were a Weapons Development exclusive. She pondered this as Sephiroth popped the magazine into the gun and brought it up to fire.

At the first dry click, Scarlet knew something was wrong. Apparently Sephiroth wasn't as well acquainted with the manual cartridge as she'd thought: the gun was jamming. Sephiroth frowned and pulled the trigger again.

"Don't do that," she said, reaching for the gun. "It's jammed. Here, I'll fix—"

POW! There was a muffled explosion as the testing gun abruptly exploded, and Scarlet threw her arms up, knowing already it would be too little, too late. Misfiring guns had killed more than a few of her techs, especially since the ammo had just been more volatile. She dropped to the floor, hoping she'd be spared the worst effects of shrapnel to her face and chest...

But wait... A _muffled_ explosion?

Scarlet picked her head up from the floor and stared as Sephiroth gingerly unwrapped his hand from the shattered chamber, a rain of shrapnel clattering to the floor. It was a testament to Sephiroth's strength that he had completely contained the explosion; it was a testament to the bullet's power that his hand was flayed to the bone, and Scarlet knew First-Class SOLDIERS could take a .22 point blank to the temple without a scratch. Scarlet scrambled to her feet and ran for the much-used First-Aid kit on the wall.

"Why didn't you just throw the damn thing?" She snapped, stilettos clacking on the floor as she ran back, opening the kit at the same time. Grabbing the Potion inside, Scarlet grabbed Sephiroth's hand and upended the small blue bottle over it, saying, "Now look what you've done."

Sephiroth hissed as the Potion was poured over his hand, a hiss mirrored by his rapidly disinfected and healed flesh. "Would you rather have gotten shrapnel to the face?" he snapped back, pulling his hand away. "I had to pull a piece of metal out of my eye once; I don't care to repeat the experience."

"Wah wah wah," Scarlet shot back. Her hands were shaking from relief and adrenalin: dimly she realized she hadn't thanked Sephiroth for saving her life, or more importantly her face. "Just be thankful you're a SOLDIER; a regular man would have lost his hand."

"No, his life," Sephiroth said, setting the broken gun down. "I don't feel comfortable putting these in the hands of my men."

"It was just one gun," Scarlet began, but Sephiroth cut her off with a shake of his head.

"You can argue it was the gun, but the bullets themselves are too powerful," Sephiroth said. "I don't want my men's equipment blowing up in their faces and offing the entire squad."

"You didn't load the magazine right," Scarlet insisted. "The ammo—"

"The potential for harm is too great," Sephiroth said firmly. "I'm not buying the ammunition."

"Well, tough beans, buster!" Scarlet snapped. Poking him in the chest with one long red nail, she said, "In case you didn't get the memo, the refitting is an order straight from President Shin-Ra—"

"As a matter of fact, I didn't get the memo," Sephiroth said, his eyes narrowing. "And I think the "order" is from the _Vice_ President, in any case. Seeing as he's been less than a year with the Company, he's not authorized to give orders yet."

"Says who?"

"Says President Shin-Ra." Sephiroth inspected his healing hand and said, "You honestly don't think he'd let his twenty-one-year-old son, who has no practical experience in running the business, suddenly make interdepartmental decisions? I'm sure that if you actually sit down and ask the President what Company policy is regarding his son, you'll find that Rufus's say-so on anything is worthless." Cocking his head, Sephiroth added, "And no doubt Rufus is aware of this... Did he actually _say_ that the order had gone through?"

Scarlet sputtered. As a matter of fact, now that she thought about it, Rufus hadn't said anything that conclusive: why that sneaky, conniving boy! No, he'd only said, "I'll have a talk with Sephiroth about reissuing the ammo..." Apparently that talk hadn't occurred yet. And, according to Sephiroth's reasoning (which Scarlet sullenly admitted hadn't been wrong yet) it wouldn't matter if it did.

Sephiroth stepped around her as she mentally pulled her hair in frustration and walked out of the firing range, saying over his shoulder, "We might talk about that ammo for Special Forces. Once you get done drafting a _reasonable_ proposal, you can give it to my secretary."

And just like that, the ice king was gone.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I had planned to make Scarlet vamp Sephiroth if only to make him squirm, but she seems like she'd hold her cards in reserve—maybe wait until he's drunk before entrapping him. But she doesn't know he doesn't drink yet... Hehehe.

And yes, a .22 is a small, kind of weak gun—it's the standard police sidearm, I think—but it's still impressive if someone takes a shot point-blank. I mean... That's just not smart.

I'd meant to stick out one chapter on the 18th and another on the 22nd, but there have been computer difficulties. Luckily those are now cleared up, so no more issues to worry about. Huzzah!

/\/\/\/\/\


	49. Chapter 46

Put Your Lights On

11.29.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Forty-Six

/\/\/\/\/\

"I have nothing to wear."

Toriko watched as her father first blinked in surprise, then chuckled and rubbed his hand over his mouth. "You seem to be fully clothed to me," he said.

"You know what I mean," Toriko said patiently. "It's not nice of you to get us invited to dinner and not have me dressed appropriately."

"Don't you have those things the designers left behind?" Sephiroth asked, sitting back to look at her. He had just come back from work and had been enjoying a cup of his foul coffee when Toriko had come to him with her declaration. She could not understand what he found so funny about the situation.

"They're too fancy," she said. "And the thrift store things are too plain."

"Do you want to go shopping?" He asked her, smiling indulgently and his tone of voice suggesting that this was a joke. But he seemed to be in a good mood today, so Toriko decided to take advantage of his offer.

"Yes," she said, and he blinked in surprise. Rubbing his chin, Sephiroth looked thoughtful.

"Well," he said. "We'll pay Elaine a call."

"Elaine?" Toriko inquired, tilting her head.

"Every Executive has a designer that they prefer," Sephiroth replied. At the word 'designer', Toriko's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "One that suits their style and that they become acquainted with over a period of time. Elaine's mine."

"Elaine?" Toriko repeated, but for a different reason. "A woman?"

"Yes," Sephiroth said. "She's not as touchy as most of the others are and she has a great eye for fabric." As Toriko blinked—yet more strange dimensions of her father she never expected—Sephiroth went on to say, "She's also a lesbian, so the sexual tension issue is never even broached."

"Oh," Toriko said in understanding, though she had to poke Sephiroth's mind to find out what 'lesbian' meant.

"Get your shoes on," he said. "We'll pay her a visit."

/\

Elaine's office was in Sector Four, towards the outskirts of Midgar and close enough to the edge of the continent that a glimmer of ocean was visible from her windows. She was sitting at her desk when Toriko and Sephiroth arrived, her head in her hands as she stared intently at the thing in front of her. She didn't seem to hear them come in and startled violently when Sephiroth cleared his throat.

"Don't you call?" Elaine demanded irritably, which made Toriko blink; rudeness was not something she'd expected from a person dependent on her father's patronage. But apparently this rudeness was normal, as Toriko glanced at her father and neither saw nor felt a bit of irritation. "Never mind," Elaine said. "What do you want done?"

"Clothes for her," Sephiroth said, patting Toriko on the shoulder.

Elaine nodded. She was a tall, curvy woman, but more handsome than pretty. Her dirty blonde hair was cut short and spiked out irregularly all over her head; Toriko wondered if that was deliberate or natural. Her eyes were pale brown, almost gold, and their sharpness was magnified behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Dressed for comfort, she wore boy-cut jeans, trainers, and a fitted black shirt with the word "R4CK3D" on it. Toriko puzzled over the meaning of the gibberish string as Elaine slid off her high stool and walked over, hooking her thumbs in her pockets.

"So this is the one everyone's been talking about," Elaine said conversationally, and Toriko looked away from her shirt to meet her pale eyes. Elaine bent down to look at her, to all appearances ignoring Sephiroth. "Not bad," Elaine said. "She'll grow up pretty. Probably not curvy, but big boobs would look weird on her frame." Cocking her head, Elaine looked up at Sephiroth and said, "What kind of clothes do you want for her?"

"We're going to a dinner party with a colleague of mine," Sephiroth said, smiling, and for some reason Toriko felt herself blushing. "And she says she has nothing to wear."

"Ahh," Elaine said knowingly. Looking at Toriko, she straightened and paced around her; Sephiroth took his hand off her shoulder so Elaine could go in a complete circle. "Okay, I've got something. Wait here."

"Elaine is also very fast," Sephiroth said to Toriko as the blonde woman disappeared into one of the doors leading from her main office. A few seconds later Elaine was back, carrying something dark purple in her arms.

"I love thrift stores," Elaine said, stopping in front of Toriko and shaking the purple thing out. "A lot of great material just sitting there... What do you think?"

The object in question was a long purple jacket that zipped up in the front and fell back to a hood. Toriko was perplexed.

"I will fit this to you," Elaine said to Toriko, startling her, "and make it into a hoodie-dress. It'll look great with boots."

"She doesn't have boots," Sephiroth said.

"You'll have to fix that, then," Elaine said, looking up at him. Toriko was surprised to see that Elaine was only a few inches shorter than he was; that made her the tallest woman Tori had ever seen. "Won't you?"

Sephiroth chuckled and nodded. A few minutes later, Toriko was standing on a short stool, wearing the long purple hoodie flipped inside out as Elaine efficiently fitted it to her with a few pins. Toriko had nearly jumped out of her skin when Elaine had thrust the first pin through the fabric, thinking the woman would stick her, but the blonde designer had only laughed and said, "You're as bad as your father."

"I wouldn't mind if you just looked before you stuck the pins in," Sephiroth said. He was sitting at Elaine's desk, working on some report or other that he'd brought along.

"This is me, darling," Elaine said grandly. "I could do this blind."

"Please don't," Toriko said, eyeing her pins warily.

Elaine laughed again and continued to fit. Once she was working, she seemed to cheer up immensely; there was a small, happy smile on her face as she took up the sleeves, tucked in the fabric, and made a variety of other adjustments. Toriko looked up at the ceiling and blinked; it had been painted to look just like a summer sky.

"Like my _trompe l'oeil_, do you?" Elaine asked, looking up. "It's great in wintertime."

"It looks like you have your office open to the sky," Toriko said admiringly.

"Yeah... Feels pretty cramped in here otherwise," Elaine said, nodding at the bolts of fabric and multiple odd machines she had sitting haphazardly around. "Okay, that's done. I'll make a few based off this design—are you like your dad?"

"What?" Toriko asked, looking away from the ceiling and blinking.

"Are you like your dad?" Elaine repeated. "He's got this thing for hidden pockets in his clothes." When Toriko looked at him, Sephiroth wordlessly opened his jacket and she blinked when she saw that the lining was dotted with them.

_ "What do you keep in there?" _Toriko exclaimed.

_ "Cards," _Sephiroth replied. _ "Keys. Gauze and a suture kit." _

_ "...what?" _

_ "You never know what might happen. I like to be prepared." _

Prepared... Everyone could use a jacket like that. _ "Are your pants similarly lined?" _ Toriko wondered at him.

_ "No. Think of how that'd look." _

Toriko thought and had to suppress a snicker: there was no socially acceptable way for anyone to go digging around in his pants. Elaine apparently saw her face twitch and took that as an agreement. "Okay," Elaine said. "Pockets for you. I can get this done in about fifteen minutes. Help yourself to the fridge."

And indeed there was a fridge, a big one sitting in the corner. Perplexed but amused, Toriko walked over to it as soon as she was out of the hoodie-dress. "Father, do you want anything?" She called.

"Toss him a beer!" Elaine called as she settled at one of her odd machines.

"And one for me too."

"I can't drink, Elaine," Sephiroth said as a loud mechanical thrum suddenly filled the air; Toriko guessed that was the noise her odd machine made.

"Pansy," Elaine said.

Toriko blinked, stunned. _ "Father! She called you a—" _

_ "I know," _he thought back. _ "It's alright; she doesn't mean it and I don't care." _

How incredibly odd; didn't he worry about appearances? Toriko opened the refrigerator and looked through it, stunned. Sephiroth's refrigerator was neatly arranged and clean, alive with color because of his preference for fresh vegetables. Elaine's was full of half-eaten this and thats, and there was a very strange smell permeating the entire thing. Toriko removed a beer and closed the door, suppressing a chill of horror.

_ "Did you know her refrigerator was like that?" _Toriko thought at her father.

_ "Yes," _he said. _ "I should have warned you. Sorry." _

_ "It wasn't _that _bad," _Toriko thought, a little embarrassed. _ "You don't have to be sorry." _

Walking over to Elaine, Toriko handed her the beer and blinked in amazement; the odd machine was actually sewing and cutting off the excess fabric, turning a task that would have taken a hand-sewer a few hours into a matter of minutes. Elaine took the beer without looking and popped off the cap with her teeth, which made Toriko's brows rise in admiration: it wasn't the smartest way to open a beer bottle, but it certainly looked impressive. Toriko stood by Elaine's shoulder, entranced by the machine.

"Done!" Elaine announced at length, whipping the purple garment out from the machine and turning it right side out. "Put it on," she said, turning to Toriko. She complied and Elaine nodded, a smile on her thin lips. "Now turn around and show your dad."

Sephiroth looked up as Toriko turned and blinked, his eyes widening momentarily. "Huh," he said finally. "Very nice."

"Is that all?" Elaine asked archly, rising to her feet. Her tone was vaguely threatening.

"She looks wonderful," Sephiroth amended. "Elaine, you've worked your marvelous magic again."

Toriko turned to see Elaine make a florid bow; apparently she was something of a dramatist. "One hundred," she said as she straightened.

"Done," Sephiroth said, reaching into his multipocketed jacket.

_ "One hundred gil!" _Toriko squeaked.

_ "Yes." _

_ "That's too much for a piece of clothing!" _

_ "A downside of visiting a designer; they'll gouge your organs out if they have a chance." _After a moment, Sephiroth added, _ "Elaine's also attending school." _

"Your father's money puts me through college," Elaine said, grinning at Toriko. Her comment chimed so unexpectedly well with their silent conversation that Toriko wondered if she, like the bald Turk Rude, was 'sensitive'.

_ "She's not," _Sephiroth said, writing a check. _ "But she has a knack for saying the right thing at the right time." _Tearing the check out, he left it on her desk, saying, "It's for five thousand; I'm commissioning you for all of Tori's winter clothes."

"Thank you, oh generous patron," Elaine said, clapping her hands together and bowing.

"How's school?"

"Teh suxors, but I get by," she said, straightening. "Thanks for asking. How's Roofie?"

_ "Roofie?" _ Toriko repeated, catching a drug reference as the word passed by.

_ "Rufus," _Sephiroth thought back. _ "They attended the same college; she's two years behind him. He actually introduced me to her, in a way..." _

"I don't know." Sephiroth said. "I don't see him that often."

"Oh." Elaine seemed disappointed. "Well, tell him Laney says hi."

"I'll be sure to do that. Anything else?"

"Nope," Elaine said. "Now get out of my hair. I've got history to do."

Once again, Toriko was surprised that Sephiroth didn't take offense to her tone: if any of his SOLDIERS had spoken to him in such a way, he would have given them a tongue-lashing at the very least.

_ "Elaine's also bipolar," _Sephiroth thought at Toriko. _ "Sometimes she says and does things strangely because she's on or off her meds." _

_ "Sounds dangerous," _Toriko thought.

_ "Only to herself." _ Sephiroth slid off the stool and gestured at Toriko. "Let's go find you some boots."

"Knee-length," Elaine said with a nod. "Leather. No heels. Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes?" Sephiroth asked, looking at her.

Elaine pointed at Toriko's hand, which was half-covered by the long sleeve of the hoodie-dress and her shirt. "She's got your birthmark. Do you want gloves?"

_ "Birthmark?" _Toriko thought incredulously at her father, recalling the double zeroes that marked their hands. Sephiroth mentally rolled his eyes and said aloud, "If you have any."

"Not in her size," Elaine said. "But wait here a moment."

She disappeared again into a side room and came out with a pair of black nylons and scissors. With efficient snips, she cut off the legs of the stockings and slit holes in the black nylons, sticking them over Toriko's arms without asking. Toriko looked at her makeshift gloves, which ended just above the curves of her biceps and left her fingers free.

"Rough," Elaine commented. "But more modern. I'll make better ones in a bit."

Sephiroth nodded. "Good. And thanks for the, uh..."

"Arm stockings," Toriko said, examining her hands.

"No prob," Elaine said.

Sephiroth and Toriko left Elaine's apartment-cum-office, taking the elevator down.

_ "That was...unusual," _ Toriko thought finally. _ "I thought it would take longer." _

_ "Elaine doesn't like to waste time," _Sephiroth thought back.

_ "Am I really going to get boots?" _

_ "If you like." _

Toriko looked at her shoes. So far she had two pairs, the trainers Reeve had tossed into her thrift clothes and the buckle shoes the team of designers had left behind. She didn't really need a third pair, but...

_ "It's always nice to be prepared," _Toriko thought shyly.

Sephiroth chuckled and patted her on the head. _ "That's my girl." _

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Elaine is roughly based on a bipolar person I knew and she's not at all related to Elena of the Turks—just so you know. She's kinda reckless and bosses everyone, not just Sephiroth, around. We'll be seeing some, but not a lot, of her in the future.

Recently someone asked why Toriko would speak Continental in front of Elaine; sharp eyes, Wish-Full Thinker. In any case, Toriko is speaking Continental because Sephiroth spoke to her in Continental in front of Elaine; she took her cue from him. In any case, she's supposed to be 'learning' how to speak the language during this time.

And I shamelessly stole the "R4CK3D" shirt from the store of Megatokyo, but is it really stealing if I give them credit? I'd get one, but it'd be a mean joke on myself.

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	50. Season's Greetings!

I know it's late, but here's the...

PYLO Christmas Eve Bonus!

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PYLO (Put Your Lights On) is a fanfiction by kleptomaniac0, which therefore by definition mean that the FFVII characters do not belong to the author and ergo do not garner any profit for said person. If sued, the author will simultaneously freeze and combust. This will result in a local hailstorm of flaming comets. Therefore... Yeah, you get the picture.

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This bit takes place somewhere in the story. That's all I really know. It doesn't fit anywhere in the main plotline, hence the "bonus" in the title. Merry Christmas Eve! If you're not Christian or celebrate some other holiday, sorry for not including yours in the bonuses, but please enjoy the chapters!

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It had been a while since Toriko had been in the public eye, so one cool winter day when Midgar was spectacularly festooned in snow and ice, Sephiroth told Toriko to get dressed; they were going for a walk.

"Where to?" Toriko asked, and he could see her thinking about her fighting clothes. Now that the weather had turned colder, her sweat pants and tee shirt had been exchanged for a padded suit not unlike the ones _kunoichi_ traditionally wore. Sephiroth shook his head and she looked at him inquiringly. "Not the plains?"

"We're going into the city," Sephiroth said. "It's time your picture was in the paper again."

Toriko sighed and bowed; she hadn't shaken herself of that habit yet. "Yes, Father. I'll get dressed immediately."

Elaine had been delighted to have a little girl to put clothes on, and as a result, the clothes Toriko wore for camera opportunities were, well...girly. So far Elaine hadn't put Toriko in anything pink, but all her clothes were young gothic chic: lace and suede juxtaposed with buckles, frills and flowing sleeves, and of course everything in dark purple, blue, or black. When Toriko came out of her room, she wore her now-customary black knee boots and a knee-length coat that was trimmed with black fur.

"Luxurious," Sephiroth commented.

"Thank you," Toriko said solemnly, and then spun for his benefit, a glimmer of a smile on her lips. "Is this suitable?"

"More than suitable," Sephiroth said. "I think you're going to start a new trend for fur and suede."

Toriko chuckled and drew the fur-edged hood around her face, her gray-green eyes twinkling. "From rags to riches," she said, her voice slightly muffled by the fur. "Who could see a prostitute's daughter being this?"

"You're my daughter too," Sephiroth said, frowning slightly. "And it's only expected."

Toriko dropped her hands from her face and smiled. "Yes, Father, I know. Shall we be going?"

Time with Reeve's daughter had made Toriko much more sure of herself: yet another reason to like Meryl, Sephiroth thought as Toriko practically skipped up to him and looped her arm through his. He couldn't help but notice the intense brightness of her eyes...

"How much sugar have you had today?"

"Not much," Toriko said, and then giggled. "Maybe ten cubes?"

"I'm throwing that box out first thing when we get home."

A few minutes later, they were walking down the street. The weather was cold, but still, so Sephiroth tossed on his old leather duster and let Toriko fuss with his scarf: gray alpaca, one of his few luxuries. This was all done in the street, of course, so the public could see what a loving family the two of them were. A few of Sephiroth's neighbors greeted them as they passed in or out of the building, and people on the street spared them more than a passing glance.

"Have they taken enough pictures?" Toriko asked in Wutaiese.

"Yes," Sephiroth said. "The paparazzi in the building across the street have had about five shots apiece. Let's start walking."

"Yes, Father," Toriko said, taking his arm again.

It was the end of the year, and the streets were filled with people filing to and from church, where it was traditional to pray for forgiveness for the past year and blessings in the new. Sephiroth had never gone to church: he was an atheist because he'd never been able to buy into the idea of life after death—true death, not the KO status that could be easily taken care of—or the idea of eternity. He asked Toriko if she was religious.

"Not _this_ kind of religious," she said with a faint snort. "Continental people seem much too concerned with death."

"Then you are—?"

Toriko paused. "I'm not sure," she said finally. "Mother took me to the temple to pray for blessings, but I don't remember feeling particularly faithful or holy. When the monk tapped me on the head to give me Da-Chao's blessing, I just thought it hurt."

Sephiroth chuckled. "Did you share these feelings with your mother?"

"Oh, no," Toriko said, looking vaguely shocked. "Mother was... Well..."

_ "She spent a lot of time praying to Da-Chao and Leviathan for vengeance," _Toriko confided in thought. _ "She spent no time on the kinder parts of religion." _

"I see," Sephiroth said aloud. "Interesting... I wouldn't have thought that of her."

_"Though it seems that irreligious people are smarter, with their minds unclouded by 'God' and what 'God' wants."_ Sephiroth mused.

_ "I saw a shaman once," _ Toriko thought, her thoughts vaguely unfocused. _ "She was so religious that she danced on top of sharp knives without hurting herself." _

_ "Why was she on top of the knives in the first place?" _

_ "To prove her faith, I think." _

_"That's what I find scary: putting yourself in harm's way for the sake of religion. You wouldn't believe how many soldiers in the war convinced themselves that they were doing 'God's work' and 'what God wanted'. It was self-righteous and downright nauseating."_

_ "Perhaps... But it's in people's nature to want to feel safe. Being assured of life after death comforts them." _Toriko thought. _ "Religion is also an excuse for them not to feel fully responsible for their actions, if absolution is only a prayer away... I'm sure those same soldiers used the mantle of God to keep themselves from feeling pain or guilt." _

_ "Yes, they did," _Sephiroth thought, surprised. _ "In their minds, the Wutaiese weren't real people because they didn't believe in the same God." _

_ "I'm sure that made it easier to kill too." _

_ "...probably."_

Sephiroth looked closely at his fey daughter, not exactly sure what he was seeing. They'd been together for a few months now, and while he had most people figured out during the first few minutes, Toriko was still a mystery. There were times when she acted very girly, almost childish—for example, all semblance of intelligent conversation went out the window whenever she came across small animals—but almost in the next breath, it would be like she was a much older girl. The breadth and scope of the subjects her mind could encompass were staggering, and they were made even more stunning for the fact she could intelligently and philosophically converse on all of them. Occasionally it was frightening or uncomfortable: Sephiroth was still couldn't bring himself to candidly discuss sex or its applications in politics and war.

They chatted in trivialities as they made their way toward the park, which always looked spectacular in the wintertime. The tall, bare-branched trees were sheathed in ice, with the evergreen members draped in snow, and the frozen lake was packed with skaters. Sephiroth and Toriko visited the tourist traps for the paparazzi shadowing them (none too well: Sephiroth had pointed out ten on the way to the park, and Toriko had spotted a few that were hiding in plain sight: it had been quite entertaining, especially when a paparazzo discovered he'd been spotted and took to his heels) before heading to some of the quieter paths.

"So noisy," Toriko said, rubbing her ear with one hand. Sephiroth was holding the other, more absently than out of a desire to make a nice picture, and vaguely noted how cold her fingers were.

"Did you enjoy the sights?" He asked, looking down at her.

"Yes," Toriko said. "But this is nicer."

"I agree," Sephiroth said, smiling. They looked up as at a rustle in the trees ahead, and Sephiroth tensed, one hand going into his coat for the throwing knife he kept in the lining. But Toriko squeezed his hand sharply, her thoughts an arrest.

_"Father, it's just a paparazzo." _

_ "They've got some nerve," _Sephiroth grumbled, letting his hand drop. _ "Under other circumstances, I'd be annoyed at how blatant they're being..." _

No sooner had he thought this than the paparazzo in the tree suddenly sprang into the path, his camera hiding his face from view. There was a click as he snapped a picture of the two of them, not ten feet away and in plain sight, before hurling himself back into the trees. It was easily the stupidest thing that Sephiroth had ever seen a paparazzo do.

"Wha..." Sephiroth stared, unable to find a word suitable to express his indignation. He would have been angry and had actually taken a step in the paparazzo's direction before Toriko's laughter pealed in the quiet trees.

People who were passing acquaintances with Toriko often imagined she had a graceful, silvery laugh. Up until recently, Sephiroth had thought much the same. Her soft chuckle was charming, and her giggle, Sephiroth could admit, was cute. Her full-out laugh, on the other hand, was a surprisingly loud, "Wahaha!" that ricocheted off the trees and startled a couple of birds.

"Good god," he said in mild horror as she clapped a hand over her mouth, giggling. "You laugh like Scarlet."

"No I don't!" Toriko objected, looking up at him.

"You _cackle_."

"So do you."

Now that was offensive. "I do not."

"Yes you do," Toriko said, poking him in the chest. Normally she wouldn't have been so touchy, but there were still paparazzi about. "I've heard you."

"When?"

"A while ago." Toriko made a fist and shook it, saying, "That's what you get for fu—"

"Language," Sephiroth said, thinking of Reeve with his daughters.

"—Effing with me, you bastard," Toriko amended quickly. "You cackled then."

"That was not a cackle, that was a—"

"That was a cackle, Father, and you know it."

He bopped her on the nose, which he'd seen Reeve do with his children once or twice—it seemed a properly ridiculous, fatherly thing to do. The motion was apparently so unexpected that Toriko blinked at him, totally at a loss for words.

"Stop being impudent, young lady," Sephiroth said. "Or we won't go for cider."

"What's cider?"

Sephiroth recoiled. "What's... Never mind, now we have to go no matter what."

Toriko grinned and Sephiroth got the impression he'd been snookered somehow. He couldn't help but think that maybe she'd inherited her mother's gift for manipulating men as she hugged his arm to her chest and smiled winsomely up at him. Any other woman doing that would have been glared at, but since it was Tori, Sephiroth could only snort and look away. That, and feel, well... Melty inside.

"You're being silly," he coughed, aware of how hot his cheeks were getting. "Now let's go."

Toriko hung on his arm and gave him a look of such soppy adoration that he just knew she was putting it on for the cameras. "Yes, Father," she said, and giggled.

"...You have sugar cubes in your pockets, don't you?"

"But of course. I'm supposed to be sweet and charming, aren't I?"

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Darn you, sugar. You make my carefully balanced character all wonky.

I want to extend a disclaimer here: what these characters think isn't necessarily a viewpoint I share. I'm sorry if I've offended any religious people with Sephiroth and Toriko's thoughts, but it seems like something they'd think and we always knew Sephiroth, at least, wasn't the most agreeable of people. Plus, Toriko can't be all-around agreeable: that would make her a Mary Sue. God save her from the Sue-ness!

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	51. Chapter 47

Put Your Lights On

12.2.05

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

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Chapter Forty-Seven

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When her dad had asked if she'd mind having the General over for dinner, the thought of Rose's reaction had been so funny that Meryl had forgotten that she really would have minded. Unlike the rest of the female population of Midgar, Meryl thought that the General was really creepy. The few times Meryl had seen him in person—office parties—he had radiated subzero cold, and the glow of his Mako eyes were like the veiled insanity of the moon. Plus, he was just too good looking. Meryl had thought more than once that the General could be a vampire, and the realization that he'd suddenly be around her smitten older sister was too much to bear.

_"What if he lures her into a dark corner and bites her neck!"_

Meryl had been accused of having an overactive imagination and sometimes she agreed it was so, but if super-strong SOLDIERS with glowing eyes could exist, why not vampires? It would certainly explain why the General always wore black (to shield himself from the sun) and why he made so few public appearances (again, the sun). As the day to have the General over for dinner approached, Meryl read up frantically on ways to keep vampires at bay. The soundest protection—not inviting one into the house—had already been breached, so Meryl resorted to garlic and holy symbols. The night the General was supposed to come, Meryl sprinkled a line of garlic dust at the door. See him try to cross _that._ Also she wore a shirt emblazoned with the Holy Cirque, the cross-quartered circle that was supposed to protect against evil. Though Meryl had wanted Rose to wear such a symbol too, Meryl knew it would have been impossible to get her sister to believe that the way-too-handsome General was a creature of the undead. Ditto for Mom and Dad.

It was five forty-five now, fifteen minutes before the General was supposed to arrive, and Meryl lay on Rose's bed, watching her older sister fuss. Her stomach was flip-flopping with anxiety, but she'd done all she could do: the moment of truth would come eventually, so Meryl absorbed herself in the mundane in an effort to calm herself. She looked at Rose's floor, which was covered with discarded outfits, and her table, which was buried under a mountain of makeup. Rose's face was flushed from a mixture of excitement and constantly washing off foundation, and she practiced smile after smile in the mirror. Meryl rolled on her older sister's bed and opened her mouth to make the low, croaking "a-a-a-a-a-a" noise in the back of her throat that never failed to cheese Rose off.

"Quit that!" Rose snapped at once; normally she just rolled her eyes and said "Grow up." Meryl lifted her head and propped her chin in her hands.

"_You _quit it," Meryl said mulishly. "Just wear normal clothes. Dad's gonna make you change anyway if you gussy up."

"No he won't," Rose said smugly. "I'm only going to come out like this at the last minute. He won't tell me to change in front of company."

Meryl doubted that, but she let it pass. "Why do you like the General so much anyway?" She asked. "He's old."

"Twenty-nine is not old!" Rose flared.

"Too old for _you._"

"A girl can dream," Rose said huffily, or tried to. She ended up giggling. Meryl rolled her eyes and sat up. She was an active girl, never sitting still for more than a minute, and her clothes reflected that. Even her nice pair of jeans was a little worn in the seat and knees, and the Cirque-marked shirt she was wearing was soft from much washing. The only effort Meryl had made to look nice was to brush and re-dye the red streaks in her hair, which she'd planned to do anyway since the roots were coming in. Dad had tried to make her dye the strands black—he liked his girls to look normal—but Meryl had staunchly refused.

"Unless you want to chase me around with a comb full of dye?" She'd suggested: the memory of such an event would have been priceless. Funny thing was, Dad had actually looked like he was going to do it before the phone had gone off. Dad, being Dad, had picked it up at once.

"Hello? Oh, Sephiroth." Cue the scream from Rose's room. "Sure, no problem. We'll see you when you get here." Hanging up, Dad had said to her, "Apparently the General's running a little bit late; he had to pick his daughter up from home."

His daughter... Lying on Rose's bed, Meryl felt a sudden chill unseat her stomach. No doubt the girl was a dhampir, born of the unholy union between a mortal woman and a vampire. Yet dhampirs were not bad; Meryl had read hundreds of stories outlining their difficult, always outcast situations.

She could definitely sympathize with that: before her dad had become the Head of Urban Development, he'd moved his family all over Midgar, bouncing Meryl and Rose from school to school as befitted their new stations. While Rose was charming and made friends easily, Meryl was more nervous and withdrawn. Silent at one school, she would try to make up for it by being loud and sometimes obnoxious at the next, and underlying everything she did was her wild and sometimes inappropriate sense of humor. Apparently not everyone thought accidentally decapitating a bio specimen was funny, as Meryl had done when attempting to expose the animal's spinal cord. Actually, she had burst out laughing out of nervousness rather than humor, but the incident had still been enough to tar her as a weirdo.

_"Everyone's a weirdo when you get to know them," _Meryl thought grumblingly to herself. _"Why do they get so freaked out if they see you're weird from the get-go?"_

The doorbell chimed, and Rose shrieked again; by this time she'd finished making herself up, and Meryl had to admit she looked stunning. Her makeup was very subtly, almost masterfully done to enhance her natural prettiness, making her eyes sparkle like stars—_"The black emptiness of space!" _Meryl amended wickedly—and her cheeks flush like roses (_"Not because she'd pinched them or anything"_). She was wearing a delicately dyed pink and yellow dress, long-sleeved and to her knees, but clung just enough to show her figure to advantage: it was Rose's way of saying she was only a year away from becoming a legal adult. She wore her hair away from her face and two points of light, a pair of actual diamond earrings, sparkled in her lobes. Meryl thought she looked overdressed, but privately felt a little shabby.

_"But if I'm shabby, the vampire won't notice me, so hah."_

"I've got it!" Dad shouted; Meryl heard his footsteps thumping down the hall. He walked like a crashing giant, which made Meryl snicker every time she realized his favorite animal was the light-footed cat. Rolling off the bed, Meryl threw herself off the mattress and made it out of the door just before her giddy older sister ran into the hall.

"Girls!" Mom exclaimed, grabbing them both as they nearly crashed into her. Meryl looked up and blinked; Mom was gussied up too, wearing a bit more makeup to conceal the lines in her face but no less beautiful for it. She was in a blue silk shirt whose flattering cut bespoke money and style, and a triple-stranded pearl necklace gleamed at her neck. Her hair was pulled back into a bun.

_"And I just bet Dad's in a suit too..." _Meryl realized with a sinking feeling. _"Maybe I should go change..._

_"No! No! I'm not changing out of this shirt! It's the only thing protecting me from the vampire! Curse you, General! You're trying to work your mind tricks on me already!_

_"Hmm... I wonder how he's doing with that line of garlic dust?"_

Only time would tell. Meryl heard the door opening and Dad saying, "Hello."

"Good evening, Reeve," said the General's mellow tones: Meryl glanced at Rose, who was suppressing silent giggles of delight. Damn! The mind control was working on her, though Meryl realized it was probably Rose's fangirliness that was making her act so stupid. Disgusted, Meryl wormed out of her mother's grip and walked out to the living room, her mother and Rose came a step behind.

The first thing Meryl noticed, of course, was the General. He stood a couple of inches taller than her father, and his hair caught the light from the halogen lamps scattered around the room, making it glow white. Even at a distance, the Mako glow in his eyes was unmistakable, as were the creepily perfect features of his face... Meryl could just hear Rose swooning.

_"I will fork you,"_ Meryl thought at the General, _"if you come anywhere near my sister! Or my mom. Heck, even my dad. Death by forking!"_

"Host gift," an unfamiliar voice said; Meryl pricked up her ears and took a few cautious steps out to see the General's daughter standing at his side. A darker imitation of her father, her face still had an unmistakably exotic cast to it, a little slant to her eyes and a bit more gold in her skin. She was wearing a purple dress, but it didn't look formal or anything—actually, Meryl found herself wanting one of the same, since it seemed to be made of soft, comfy material. The General's daughter also had a black scarf tied pirate-style around her head, and Meryl remembered Dad telling her something about the girl's hair falling out... In the girl's arms was a bouquet of flowers, which she solemnly handed to Meryl's dad.

"Oh, thanks!" Dad exclaimed, taking the flowers; Meryl spotted the General and his daughter exchange a glance, one that seemed to say, _"I told you so" _from child to parent. Meryl suppressed the urge to snicker.

"Please, come in," Dad said, stepping back to give the General and his daughter room to remove their shoes. Meryl nearly screeched with horror as the General crossed the line of garlic dust, not sparing it so much as a glance. He had to be a strong vampire for that to happen! Or maybe just normal. Meryl decided to stick with her vampire theory, it was just more exciting.

Dad went on talking, saying, "Sephiroth, you've met my wife Naomi."

"Yes," the General said, nodding at Mom politely. "You're just as lovely as I remember."

"You're too kind," Mom murmured, and Meryl looked at her mother in horror; was she falling prey to the General's freaky good looks? No, she was just being polite. As was the General, Meryl hoped.

_"If he hits on my mom, it'll be double death by forking."_

"I'm Rose," said Meryl's older sister instantly. Her voice was quick and little breathy; no doubt she was near speechless with delight. Meryl suppressed the urge to gag and she thought she caught a glimmer of humor in the General's eyes. Oddly, that made her feel better, that someone else recognized how stupid Rose was being.

_"And he's not eyeing her like a piece of steak... This is good."_

"A pleasure to meet you," the General said with no more than the usual politeness, yet Meryl could just imagine her sister going into paroxysms of delight.

"And this is my younger daughter Meryl," Dad said, segueing smoothly.

Those brilliant, moon-mad eyes turned on her and Meryl went stiff with a sudden attack of fear that made her stomach flutter alarmingly. Oh yeah, the General definitely had to be a vampire if she was freezing up like this... Determined not to fall into his waiting hands, Meryl hooked her thumbs in her belt loops to hide how much she was trembling and said deliberately, " 'Sup, yo?"

"Meryl!" Mom scolded, and Meryl could feel Rose glaring at her. Dad frowned, his look saying, "We're going to talk later."

But the General's face twitched slightly in amusement: gentle amusement, not like he was laughing at her futile attempts to escape. " 'Sup?" He returned with a completely straight face, and Meryl couldn't help snickering. Somehow the idea of the General being a vampire seemed silly, if only in part. After all, no vampire would ever go " 'Sup?" It was just too stupid.

The slightly scandalized look on the face of the General's daughter made it all the funnier.

"And this must be Toriko," Dad said as if nothing weird/ghetto had happened.

"Yes," Toriko confirmed. Her voice was, well... The only way Meryl could think of it was as if an older girl were speaking from an eleven-year-old mouth. It wasn't that Toriko's voice was deep or anything, but...

_"I guess what Dad was saying about her having a hard life was true..."_

"Hi!" Meryl said at once, walking up to Toriko. They were about the same height, but she felt inexplicably small as she stepped up to the girl, much as she'd feel if she sidled up to a strange adult. Toriko blinked, and her green-gray eyes glittered curiously.

"Hello," Toriko said. She seemed to be very serious, and again Meryl remembered stories of the poor dhampirs... She wondered what Toriko would look like if she laughed out loud.

"Did you find the place alright?" Mom asked; it was an automatic query since the family had moved so often.

"Yes," the General said. "But the traffic was murder."

"Wanna see my cat?" Meryl asked Toriko.

Toriko glanced at her father and Meryl saw the General give her the tiniest of nods even as he talked to Mom and Dad about various things. Rose had drifted to her mother's side and was watching the General covertly through her lashes. Meryl motioned at her older sister and made the crazy spinning motion by her head, which made Toriko laugh quietly. Meryl grinned; nice to know the girl wasn't made of ice.

"Come on, he's this way," Meryl said. "I keep him in my room."

"Doesn't he get angry?" Toriko asked, following her down the carpeted hall that led to the family rooms.

"Nah, he's turned off most of the time."

"Turned off?"

"You'll see what I mean," Meryl said, bounding up the stairs. Their apartment was double-storied, with the bedrooms and work offices being upstairs, while the living room, dining room, and kitchen were on the first floor. Meryl's room was the first one on the left, the one with the door tightly shut and the words, "KEEP OUT!" taped to it.

Surprisingly the room was neat, save for a few pieces of unfolded clothes and the book of vampire lore sitting on her bed: Meryl liked having everything where she could see it in case of emergencies. Going to the chest at the foot of her bed, Meryl unlatched the lid and threw it up, reaching inside to get the robot cat her father had built for her. "Time to wake up, Cait," she said, poking her finger into the cat's mouth to press the 'on' button on its palate.

"Pleh!" Cait Sith exclaimed, spitting. Wriggling out of Meryl's grasp, he wiped his mouth and said, "What have ya been getting inta?"

"A talking cat?" Toriko exclaimed, her green-gray eyes wide in surprise.

"A robot cat!" Meryl said, grinning, even as Cait hollered, "Magic cat!" Getting to her feet, Meryl shut the trunk and said, "Dad made him for me. He's got a self-learning AI, five hours of battery power, and can move both on four legs and two!"

"Impressive," Toriko said, sounding like she meant it. Cait Sith put his hands on his hips (he was in bipedal mode, which Meryl liked best) and looked Toriko up and down.

"Nice ta meetcha," he said, grinning and exposing his pointy white teeth. He was wearing a little gold crown, boots, a cape, and mittens, which gave him quite an adorable appearance; he'd been Meryl's favorite stuffed animal before Dad had put in the AI. "What's yer name?"

"Toriko," she said, and sat down on the floor. Apparently she didn't like talking down at things, which made Meryl immediately feel warmer towards her.

"I'm Cait Sith," the robot announced proudly, thumbing himself in the chest. "I'm a magic cat, and I tell fortunes. Wanna hear yours?"

"Sure," Toriko said, bemused.

Meryl giggled quietly as Cait Sith clapped his mittened hands to his head and began to rock back and forth, humming loudly as he "communed with the spirits". She remembered walking in on her dad when he'd been trying to figure out a 'sleep mode' for Cait, and the way Cait was acting now was a gross exaggeration of how Dad had been holding his head and swaying gently in his chair. Toriko pressed her lips together as she also tried not to laugh.

"Got it!" Cait yelled, flinging his hands into the air. "You're going to have a long and happy life, with nineteen children—in the first year!"

Toriko stared, and the look on her face was so blankly astonished that Meryl burst out laughing. Cait whirled around, affronted.

"Hey!" He huffed. "This is a serious matter!"

"Apparently so," Toriko said, recovering. She blinked now, a smile flickering over the corners of her lips. "Why, exactly, am I going to have nineteen children?"

Cait turned around, grinning at her. "Because yer so pretty, I decided you're gonna have my kittens," he said.

Toriko stared. Meryl smacked her robot cat upside the head, which she felt totally confident in doing; the AI was centered in Cait Sith's stomach.

"Cait!" Meryl screeched, totally scandalized. "Where'd you learn that from?"

"Hey, I'm self-learnin'!" Cait said wickedly. "It was only gonna be a matter of time before I picked up stuff like this."

Meryl looked at Toriko to see if she was offended, but to her surprise the solemn girl was actually shaking with silent laughter. A second later, Meryl heard her father's footsteps pounding up the stairs and into her room.

"Meryl—oh," Dad said, seeing Cait. He'd sounded alarmed up until then. "We were wondering where you'd gone."

" 'Sup, Daddy-o?" Cait Sith said cheekily.

"You go to sleep," he said, pointing at the cat. "We have people over and you're not fit for company right now."

"Awww," Cait whined, wringing his hands. "Are ya sure? I won't tell no dirty jokes or nothin'..."

"I'm quite sure," Dad said, and frowned. "Wait a minute, where did you learn dirty jokes?"

"Uh..." Cait seemed to have realized that he'd erred. "Night night!" Whipping around, he scrambled over Meryl to jump into the trunk and close the lid with a loud 'boom'. Dad sighed and looked at Meryl and Toriko.

"Sephiroth said he heard a guy's voice up here," he explained. "I got a little worried."

"It's just Cait, Daddy," Meryl said, opening the trunk and taking the robot out again. "I wanted to show him to Toriko."

Something seemed to flicker in Dad's eyes. "Ah," he said, and looked at Toriko. "Do you like Cait?"

"Yes," Toriko said, smiling. It was a surprisingly warm expression. "He's incredible."

"Aw, you're making me blush!" Cait exclaimed, clapping his hands to his cheeks.

Dad chuckled, smiling. Changing the subject, he asked Toriko, "What's your favorite animal?"

"Snake."

"Snakes, really?" Meryl exclaimed, her eyes snapping wide.

"Yes," Toriko said, nodding.

"Hold on, hold on, let me show you something!" Meryl yelled excitedly, and Cait squalled as he was catapulted ungraciously to the floor. Throwing open her closet doors, Meryl reached into her hidden terrarium and lifted out a baby ball python, her most recent birthday present. Carefully carrying him out, Meryl proudly said, "Ta da," as she showed the python to Toriko.

"Wow!" Toriko exclaimed, her eyes shining.

Cait, meanwhile, had sidled up to Dad. "Am I gonna get a snake as a brother?" He asked under his breath.

"Maybe," Dad muttered back.

"His name is DD Jack," Meryl said, sitting in front of Toriko. "Wanna hold him?"

"Sure," Toriko said, holding her hands out. As Meryl lifted DD Jack carefully into her hands, the half-Wutaiese girl asked, "What does DD stand for?"

"Don't do," Meryl replied.

"Don't do jack," Toriko chuckled, instantly understanding.

"Because he don't!" Meryl exclaimed, laughing. "Not one bit!"

"Make sure you wash your hands before you come to dinner," Dad said. "We'll call you in about fifteen minutes."

"Okay," Meryl said. As Dad's footsteps thumped away, Meryl looked at Toriko and said, "Do you have any pets?"

Toriko shook her head. "Father's sense of smell is too strong; any animal smell gives him a headache. By the way, do you know anything about the line of garlic dust at the door?"

Garlic! Door! Vampires! Meryl went cold with a mix of horror and embarrassment.

"Uh..." She said.

"She's preparin' for vampires," Cait said firmly.

"Cait!" Meryl yelled, her face flaming.

Toriko tilted her head. "What are vampires?"

"They're bloodsuckin' specimens of the undead," Cait went on, skipping away from Meryl as she lunged for him, trying to shut him off. "Supposed to be really good-looking and able to paralyze with a look!"

Toriko blinked. Meryl looked back at her and saw comprehension flicker across her eyes. A chill went through her.

_"Oh no oh no oh NO! We were having such a good time! Please don't let her be weirded out, please don't let her be weirded out..."_

"Did you know my father used to be called the Demon?" Toriko said, straight-faced. DD Jack coiled lazily around her arms.

Not sure where the conversation was going, Meryl said nervously, "Uh...no."

"He was," Toriko said. "During the war." She paused, looking down at DD Jack and added, "I've never seen him suck blood, though, and he looks fairly alive to me."

There was just the faintest tone of humor in her voice, but it was enough to send a wave of relief crashing through Meryl's system. She burst out laughing probably more than the situation merited, but Toriko only smiled.

"Girls, dinner!" Mom called from downstairs.

"Down we go!" Meryl popped to her feet, Toriko rising a bit more sedately. Cait looked hopefully up at them.

"Can I come?" He asked.

"If you're quiet," Meryl said, taking DD Jack back from Toriko and putting him into his terrarium. "And don't grab any ankles."

"Aww..." Cait pouted, but grinned anyway. "Yay. Company."

"We'll have to walk side by side," Meryl said to Toriko. "So Dad doesn't see him behind us."

Wordlessly Toriko picked up Cait and put him on her back, where he promptly disappeared. Curious, Meryl went around to Toriko's back and saw, delighted, that Toriko's dress had a hood at the back of it and Cait had curled himself neatly to hide in it. Cackling, Meryl threw the ends of the scarf covering Toriko's head to hide Cait's face.

"Perfect!" She exclaimed. "You are _so_ awesome!"

"Awesome?" Toriko asked, perplexed.

"A-W-E awesome!" Meryl exclaimed happily. "Okay, let's go have dinner now."

Out of impulse, she snatched up Toriko's hand and half-dragged her out of the room and down the stairs. A partner in crime—Meryl couldn't remember the last time she'd had one of those. The feeling was really, really (and the word was honestly too small to describe it) nice...

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Author's note:

And there's a Cait Sith... Yay. I like Cait Sith, even though he's sneaky and manipulative and all that. He's probably going to be more in the story, if only to make things interesting at the dinner table. Hehehe.

Metal Gear references are everywhere in this chapter... Points for the person who spots them all and sends them to me! And a picture. I'll send the other ones out eventually.

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	52. Merry Christmas?

I know it's late, but here's the...

PYLO Christmas Bonus!

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PYLO (Put Your Lights On) is a fanfiction by kleptomaniac0, which therefore by definition mean that the FFVII characters do not belong to the author and ergo do not garner any profit for said person. If sued, the author will simultaneously freeze and combust. This will result in a local hailstorm of flaming comets. Therefore... Yeah, you get the picture.

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This bit takes place somewhere in the story. That's all I really know. It doesn't fit anywhere in the main plotline, hence the "bonus" in the title. Merry Christmas! If you're not Christian or celebrate some other holiday, sorry for not including yours in the bonuses, but please enjoy the chapters!

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The invitation had read "Annual Shin-Ra Company Party", but Sephiroth had snorted and called it "Annual Shin-Ra Debauchery". Alcohol was always in abundance at President Shin-Ra's parties, but the coldness of winter seemed to have convinced him that the best way to fight the chill was with booze. Lots and lots of booze. Toriko could feel her father becoming vaguely tipsy just from the smell of alcohol in the air.

_ "I hate these things," _Sephiroth thought at her. _ "I attended one once when I was twenty-four and had just been promoted to General: they forced alcohol on me and I somehow ended up dancing on a table." _

_ "Naked?" _ Toriko thought slyly.

_ "I wasn't _that _drunk." _

It was nine o' clock, and already a fair number of people were drunk. The ones invited to the Annual Party were usually higher-level executives in the company, along with their wives and older children. Toriko was easily the youngest and shortest one there, but she was one of the most at ease: Scarlet and Rufus were positively fond of her, and Palmer, though admittedly quite stupid, had a whole repertoire of "magic" tricks that he liked to show to her. Mostly they involved food disappearing into his mouth.

Surprisingly, Hojo was there, cutting actually quite a nice figure in a Mandarin-styled suit now that he was standing up straight. Toriko kept an eye on him, but he seemed content to chat with people in his department, sparing her and her father only the briefest of glances. Sephiroth was talking with some of the brass that had been invited and had politely and discreetly told Toriko that by no means was she to she to listen in.

"I'll teach you military maneuvering later," he'd said to her. "Amuse yourself with your peers for the time being."

What peers? If he was referring to the other children, Toriko wasn't comfortable talking to them at all. For all that they were less sure of themselves than she was, they were older and taller than she was, and there were just more of them. The Executives' regard of her made them jealous and spiteful, which reminded Toriko too much of her best-forgotten childhood. She drifted over to visit Scarlet, who was resting her high-heeled feet at a nearby table.

"Toriko," Scarlet said, waving her over to the table. "You look bored."

"I don't know anyone here," Toriko said, sitting next to the buxom Executive. "And Father doesn't want me listening in on his military council."

Scarlet scoffed. "Men—well, don't pay any attention to him. I'm sure they're talking about something interesting. Maybe you should eavesdrop."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Toriko shrugged and said, "Like as not, he's making dirty jokes that he's not comfortable with me hearing."

Scarlet snorted and looked at her suddenly, smiling. "...Toriko. How would you like to play a prank for me?"

"A prank on my father?" Toriko asked, frowning.

"No, no—on President Shin-Ra."

Toriko sat up a little straighter. "Your proposal is interesting," she said. "But why the President?"

"Because I can," Scarlet said with a smirk, and Toriko caught the strong smell of alcohol on her breath. "And because I want him to squirm..." Scarlet swirled her glass, which was filled with dark red wine. The color was reflected palely in her cheeks, which were flushed from alcohol and irritation. "Where do you think all the Company's money comes from, Toriko?"

"Electricity," Toriko said, lacing her hands in her lap. Despite her father's repeated warnings not to gonear Scarlet, Toriko couldn't help but find the blonde woman fascinating. Her battering ram breasts aside, there was a formidable mind in that head of hers, one that tended to remind Toriko of Seishi...

"_Though Scarlet thinks much bigger than Mother does. Mother only wanted to become the head of an _o-chaya: _Scarlet, it seems, is not content even as the premier weapons developer of the world."_

"That's right, electricity," Scarlet said, quaffing her wine. "Mako reactors. But the capital to make all those fancy machines came from the weapons department, and President Shin-Ra needs to remember that... Needs to pay me a little more respect."

"And a prank will do that?" Toriko asked, impressed.

"No," Scarlet said. "But it'll make him look stupid, and he hates that."

"Forgive me for saying so, but this doesn't seem very well thought out."

Scarlet glared at her, blue-gray eyes stormy. "You've got a better idea, little girl?"

Toriko stayed silent. She had no animus against President Shin-Ra—and gained nothing but vicious amusement from seeing him look stupid. Plus, the face it would cost her father made Toriko wince.

"All you have to do," Scarlet said, leaning toward her, "is make him fall down."

Apparently Scarlet already considered her an accomplice. "You want me to push him?"

"Push him, trip him, make him look some other way when he's approaching the stairs," Scarlet said, sneering. "Whatever. Make him fall."

Toriko looked away, her eyes sliding to the floor. "Um... Miss Scarlet, wouldn't that be easier to do yourself?"

"What, and be blamed for him looking dumb?" Scarlet laughed and said, "What kind of idiot do you think I am?"

Toriko ignored the oblique insult and said, "You're a very attractive woman, Miss Scarlet. Am I wrong in thinking you can stop men with a single glance?"

Scarlet's face turned thoughtful. "...Interesting," she said finally. "I'll have to think about that." Fanning her hand at Toriko, she said, "You can go now," and Toriko left her mulling over her booze and thinking.

_ "What were you doing talking to that woman?" _Sephiroth thought sharply, making Toriko wince.

_ "Just testing the waters, Father," _Toriko thought. _ "Alcohol makes people very loose and silly. It's a very educational experience." _

Sephiroth growled his displeasure, but said nothing more. Toriko considered visiting Rufus, but he was surrounded by a flock of starry-eyed women who were practically hanging off him: Toriko paused to observe his flirtation technique. Unlike the things Seishi had taught her, which sought to entrap men in hopeless affection for long periods of time, Rufus's words and actions absolutely oozed with charm, which made it very clear what he wanted.

"_And will probably get,"_ Toriko thought distastefully, seeing too many breasts and legs for her liking. _"Don't those women have any shame? They can't all be daughters or sisters of guests, which mean that some of them must actually work for the Company... I don't care if a woman wants to sleep her way to the top, but I have the feeling that it'll take some doing to pull that kind of trick on Rufus. He's at the age where Mother told me that men aren't willing to give, only take and take until there's nothing of the woman left."_

Toriko turned before Rufus could spot her and squeaked as she walked straight into someone's chest. Something cold and hard banged against her cheek. Looking up, Toriko saw it was the bald Turk, Rude.

"Sorry," he said, nodding at her, and turned to go. Toriko grabbed his sleeve.

"What's in your jacket?" She asked. "I walked into something hard."

"My gun," Rude said.

"It didn't feel like a gun."

"...Alright, it's a bottle of alcohol."

Toriko blinked. "Are you sure you should be drinking?"

"It's the end of the year," he said. "Even us Turks are allowed to have some fun."

It was only fair, but... "What if something happens security-wise?"

"Your father's here," Rude said. "And he's been spoiling for some action."

Toriko snorted before she could stop herself. "That's an...interesting way to look at it."

Rude nodded and pulled his sleeve from her hand. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"I'm going with you," she said. "I'm bored here."

"Your father—"

"He doesn't care. He's talking with his brass," Toriko said, nodding in Sephiroth's direction. "And the kids here don't like me."

Rude looked uncomfortable. "...We're just sitting outside and drinking. I don't think that's really something you'd be interested in."

"Try me," Toriko said.

"...You're going to follow me anyway, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Rude sighed and adjusted his ever-present sunglasses. "Alright... Just don't drink any alcohol, alright?"

"Okay."

"And follow me ten seconds after I leave."

"Okay."

"Make sure no one sees you."

"Okay."

"And take your coat. It's cold outside."

Toriko sighed and looked up at him. "Anything else, Mr. Obvious?"

Rude's mouth twisted as he tried not to smile. "...You're a smart girl. I'm sure you can figure it out."

"Of course."

Rude left the party, going out onto the balcony that wrapped around the 69th floor. President Shin-Ra hosted all his parties on the same floor that his office was on, as if to say "Look out of my giant windows" to every person who came. Toriko had to admit the view of snow-covered Midgar was spectacular, but the single-paned, floor-to-ceiling windows of crystal clear glass gave absolutely no indication as to where the Turks were. She wondered about that as she went over to Sephiroth, who was sitting in the chair that both their coats were hung over.

"I'm going out," she murmured to him.

"Have fun," he said, leaning forward so she could take her coat. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Out on the balcony," she said truthfully.

"Don't fall over."

"Of course not, Father," Toriko said, and kissed him on the cheek for the benefit of all those watching. Some of the army men went 'aww', which proved the effectiveness of her ploy. "Have fun."

Toriko put on her coat and went out onto the balcony, her breath steaming in the cold night air as she looked around for the Turks. She didn't have to look long; they were sitting almost right outside the door, huddled in long wool coats and absolutely inundated with empty bottles, all six of them.

"Whazzup, Miz Shirra?" Reno called drunkenly, swinging his bottle of wine at her. "Rude sez yer drinkin wi'us."

"No I didn't," Rude said.

"I'm a liar," Reno said agreeably.

"Does your father know you're out here?" Tseng asked, looking up at her. He was sitting in the traditional Wutaiese manner, and by some contrivance his cup of alcohol was steaming—or maybe that was just Toriko's imagination.

"Yes," Toriko said, "and he doesn't care."

"Havva drink," one of the other Turks said, offering her a beer bottle.

"Don't give her that, she's underage," Tseng said with a frown, but Toriko took the bottle and opened it.

"I'm bored too," she said, and took a drink from the bottle. She heard hoots of laughter and drunken admiration as she finished the whole thing in one gulp, grimacing at the sour taste. "This tastes like shit."

Tseng looked scandalized. "Miss Shin-Ra!"

"Oh, be quiet," Toriko said, motioning at him with the bottle. "For a while, water was no good to drink in Wutai, so I learned to drink small beer... And then real beer. Trust me, this stuff tastes like shit."

"Ohhh, you swoooore," Reno cackled. "You're gonna be in sooo much trouble!"

"Your father," Tseng began to say.

"What are you going to do, tell him?" Toriko asked belligerently. "Because then he'll wonder why you didn't stop me."

"Only for a moment, though," Sephiroth said unexpectedly, and Toriko whipped around to see him stepping onto the balcony. Her innards froze as he added, "Because apparently, you're quite bossy when I'm not around."

"Why are you here?" Toriko asked, stunned.

"I wanted to see what was so interesting on the balcony," Sephiroth said, and his green eyes roved over the rapidly sobering Turks.

"I only had one," she said defensively, holding up the bottle.

"One too many," Sephiroth said, frowning at it. "You're too young to be drinking anyway. Get up, we're going home."

Toriko glared. The alcohol was coursing through her system, inflaming her veins and her temper. "I'm not allowed to have fun?"

"Not this kind of fun," Sephiroth said, frowning. "I'm never taking you to one of these debauches again."

"Just because _you_ can't hold your liquor—"

"I'll drink you under the table any day, young lady: I'll just be homicidal right after it. Now get up. We're going home. _Now._"

There was no room for argument in his tone, nor in the thought that he directed at her. Grumbling, Toriko got to her feet and brushed the snow off her head.

"You don't let me talk to Scarlet," she muttered. "You don't let me play with the Turks. I'm not even allowed to watch you in action with the brass. How did you think I was going to keep myself amused?"

"Do you dare to suggest that this is my fault?"

"Of course not, honorable father," Toriko said sarcastically, bowing deeply. "It's too much to expect that one as august as yourself would understand the motivations of a humble person like me."

"I'll let your insolence pass because you're obviously drunk," Sephiroth said, his voice as hard as his blade. "Now march."

Toriko walked past him, burning with indignation. She was peripherally aware of her father's gaze on her, which would have made her fearful had she met it. She yelped as Sephiroth rapped her on the head as she passed.

"You're as thick as a log," he said in Wutaiese, and the use of her native language made Toriko pay more attention. "And logs get whittled down for firewood. If I catch you being this wood-headed again, I might just throw you into the fire, hm?"

The threat—disowning, physical punishment, or emotional estrangement—was very clear. Toriko began to understand just how angry he really was.

"Yes, Father," Toriko said in Wutaiese, subdued. "I understand. I'm sorry."

"You should be," he said, turning and walking past her. "We'll talk more about this when we get home," he said in Continental, and Toriko followed him, eyes downcast and her stomach turning flip-flops of anxiety.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Toriko makes dumb choices. Occasionally, anyway. Luckily, Sephiroth is there to knock some sense into her. Yát lòng mòng góng! Yeah... I've been watching "Iron Monkey" over and over again. The whole 'thick as a log' bit kinda comes from there. I'm not sure if there's an equivalent phrase in Japanese, so I had the Cantonese words in mind when I typed the segment because it just sounds funny. That, and the coconut-like sound of Donnie Yen bonking Tsang Sze Man on the head whenever Yen says it just makes me giggle.

I know—some of you are probably thinking, "WTF does this have to do with Christmas?" No WAFF, not even opening presents: it's all about stuff you'd rather forget over the holidays. People getting drunk, people being mean... Holiday stress, ha. Not that I've been having much, but it's always fun to write about.

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	53. Chapter 48

Put Your Lights On

12.5.05

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

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Chapter Forty-Eight

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Everyone was just sitting down when Meryl dragged Toriko in, but luckily the two seats left open were next to each other. Toriko wasn't sure what Meryl would have done if that hadn't been the case, because the insistent hold the other girl had on her hand showed that _she_ considered them friends, even if Tori wasn't quite sure herself. Meryl plunked herself into the chair next to her father, which meant Toriko was sitting opposite Sephiroth.

_ "I heard a lot of laughing," _he thought, glancing at her. _ "Did you have fun up there?" _

_ "Yes," _Toriko said. _ "She's a very lively girl." _

_ "So it seems." _

_ "How's the other one?" _Toriko asked, glancing at Rose.

_ "Nothing I haven't dealt with before." _

The food was simple but well done; Toriko wondered if Naomi had done the cooking or if they'd hired someone, which seemed typical of an upper-class family. Apparently alcohol was typical too, because Naomi offered Sephiroth an uncorked bottle, asking, "Would you like to have some wine?"

"Thank you, but I can't," Sephiroth demurred. "An unfortunate side effect of the SOLDIER process."

"Oh, I've heard about that!" Rose exclaimed. "So it's true, you can't drink any alcohol?"

"We can," Sephiroth said. "But we can't break it down. The alcohol stays in our systems for a very long time and gives us terrible hangovers."

"That's awful," Rose said, perhaps putting a bit too much pathos into her voice.

"Drinking's bad for you," Meryl piped up. "Rots your liver."

_ "Not the liver!" _Sephiroth thought in mock-horror; Toriko almost snorted. At her back, Cait Sith climbed stealthily from her hood and onto the upholstered chair back.

_ "What is that _thing _crawling out of your dress?" _Sephiroth exclaimed; apparently he caught the wriggling movement.

_ "Meryl's robot-cat," _Toriko thought back. _ "He'll behave." _

Cait dropped silently to the floor and crept under the table. His tail brushed ticklishly over Toriko's ankles.

"How do you like being in Midgar, Toriko?" Naomi asked, looking at her. Toriko blinked, startled at being addressed by an adult.

"Um...it's nice," she said awkwardly. "It's much bigger than I'm used to, but I like it."

"Have you been to the park?" Meryl asked, looking at her.

"Yes," Toriko said. "Father took me."

"Did you go the main square?" Meryl asked. "It's great. It's just full of pigeons."

_ "Goddamn pigeons," _Sephiroth grumbled at Toriko. _ "Don't go on a windy day. They'll get caught in your hair." _

Toriko almost burst out laughing. Why hadn't she accustomed herself to the fact that her father, no matter how dignified he looked, would always have dumb stories?

_ "It didn't happen to me, it happened to a woman while I was there," _Sephiroth thought back, disgruntled. _ "Just be sure it doesn't happen to you." _

_ "Of course, Father." _

Meryl was still talking about pigeons. "If you give the vendor a gil, he gives you bags of corn and you can feed 'em."

"I like the lake," Rose interrupted. "Especially at evening..."

No doubt she was making some sort of romantic hint at Sephiroth, which made Toriko vaguely ill. Aloud, Toriko said, "Aren't there mosquitoes?"

Rose looked flustered. "Well...not really, since it's getting colder..."

"We went on the lake and the ducks mobbed us," Meryl said with relish. "Dad fell in when he was trying to stop them from biting Rose."

"Those were tasty ducks," Reeve said, not missing a beat.

"Mm, duck." Meryl said, grinning.

Toriko glanced at Rose, who was flushing still; this had not at all gone the way she'd planned. Toriko might have felt sorry for her, but the duck tangent was more amusing.

"Have you ever tried the duck flambé at the Emerald Isle?" Reeve asked Sephiroth; apparently this was a restaurant. When Sephiroth shook his head, Naomi stepped in, saying, "It was wonderfully done. They used this excellent sauce—"

Tickle tickle. Toriko tried not to jump as Cait (untrue to his promise) grabbed her ankle. Meryl twitched too, and the two of them shared a grin. A second later, the mittened hand disappeared from Toriko's leg.

"It sounds great," Sephiroth said—the adults had been talking about food. "And Naomi, this food is wonderful. You're an excellent cook."

"Oh, thanks," Naomi laughed.

_ "Is she really?" _Toriko asked archly.

_ "No, but we have to be polite. Plus, it's not for lack of trying." _

"I cook," Rose said, seeing a place to jump in again.

"You bake," Meryl said. "There's a difference."

"Thank you for the cookies," Toriko said, remembering her first glorious taste of sugar. "They were delicious."

Reeve and Sephiroth shared a quick look, both of them hiding smiles behind bites of food. Sephiroth's relief at not having to fence Rose's attentions floated over to Toriko, and Toriko immediately went on, saying, "Would you mind showing me how to bake them sometime?"

"Uh...sure..." Rose said, obviously confused.

"Just make sure you don't get taught at your house," Meryl said, grinning evilly. "She'll be staring at your da—ow!" For no reason, Meryl glared at Rose and grumbled under breath. Toriko, though, could clearly her hear say, "Oh, like everybody doesn't know it."

_ "I like this girl," _Sephiroth thought unexpectedly.

Reeve and Naomi pretended like nothing had happened. Or rather, Reeve did. Naomi looked a little pink, which Toriko found curious. About to ask her father, she blinked when she saw him looking ever so slightly disturbed. Not discernible to the normal person, the imperceptible tightening around his eyes was the equivalent of looking bothered.

_ "What's wrong?" _Toriko asked in a thought.

_ "Reeve's wife's playing footsie with me," _Sephiroth thought, and his perturbation was clear in his mind although not on his face. _ "Normally I wouldn't care, but it's right in front of her husband." _

_ "What's footsie?" _

Toriko could feel her father radiating waves of discomfort. Unable to articulate a response, he flicked what he was feeling onto her instead, and Toriko nearly leaped out of her skin as a phantom presence tickled down her knee, towards her ankle... Ankle?

_ "Father, that's Cait Sith," _Toriko thought with relief. _ "Meryl's robot cat; he was grabbing ankles a while ago. He must've gone to your side of the table when Rose kicked Meryl. Don't worry, Naomi's not flirting with you." _

_ "Thank god," _Sephiroth thought. _ "Reeve's a nice man. I don't want to have to mess with his wife." _

_ "...what?" _

_ "I'll tell you when you're older." _

He'd told her plenty! Toriko viewed her father with new, slightly more respectful eyes. It was harder to break up a marriage than most people thought, and if Sephiroth had been manipulative (read: Seishi-like) about it, then he was truly a formidable force. It took more than a pretty face to make men leave their wives—or in Sephiroth's case, women leave their husbands.

_"Though Father's pretty enough that it could work the other way too..."_

_ "I heard that, young lady." _

Anyway, that explained why Naomi was suddenly looking so flushed. Luckily, Reeve hadn't seemed to have noticed.

_ "Father, you should disabuse Naomi of the notion that you are sexually attracted to her," _Toriko thought clinically. As Sephiroth mentally sputtered and blushed, Toriko went on to say, _ "Her energy is all over you." _

That comment was good enough to make Sephiroth choke. Reeve patted his back, instantly anxious, but the problem cleared up almost at once. The physical one, at least.

_ "Are you saying that Naomi would cheat on her husband?" _Sephiroth thought incredulously.

Toriko poked into Naomi's mind; this was something she'd been doing ever since she could remember, considering that knowing a person's thoughts had been essential to her and Seishi's survival. Plus, it wasn't hard to skim off the thoughts that were most linked to the current situation, which in this case were reminiscences of past affairs.

_ "She has," _Toriko said. _ "And she still is. When the children are at school, her lover comes over and—" _

_ "I don't want the details." _

_ "You should at least know that she's emotionally committed to Reeve," _ Toriko replied. _ "He's just not around enough for her to have sex with. Plus—" _

_ "THAT'S ENOUGH." _

Toriko couldn't understand why her father was so uncomfortable with the topic of sex. Well, she could—most people were uncomfortable discussing it so blandly—but Seishi had done it all the time.

_ "Your mother is a freak in that aspect," _Sephiroth shot at her.

_ "True..." _Toriko thought, her temper flickering at the slur on her mother._ "As you are a freak in others." _

Sephiroth would have thought something at her, but Reeve had asked him something and he'd nearly missed it. Toriko had missed it, so Sephiroth's reply of it, "No, I haven't," was rather perplexing.

"Waverly is an excellent school," Naomi said; now that the subject had gone to her children, the pink flush in her cheeks was fading. "Rose is starting her final year there, and Meryl's just been enrolled."

"Hey, we could start together!" Meryl said brightly, making Toriko blink. "Wouldn't that be awesome?"

"Uh...yes," Toriko said. _ "Father, what does awesome mean?" _

She caught a flicker of dark humor from him before he replied, _ "Awesome means wonderful." _

_ "Really?" _Toriko looked at Meryl, suddenly aware of how strongly the other girl was taken with her. What an alien experience, to be befriended._ "Wow…" _

"Mom, can she come shopping with us?" Meryl said, looking at her mother.

Naomi glanced at Sephiroth. "Is that alright with you?"

"Want to go?" Sephiroth asked Toriko.

Bemused by the requesting ping-pong, Toriko said, "Yes," and returned the 'ball' to Meryl, who hooted excitedly and did a wiggling dance in her chair. Toriko watched her, amused and a little envious. It must be nice to be so uninhibited... So childish.

_"I haven't been a child since the day I was born..."_

_ "One always wonders..." _ Sephiroth agreed.

"We're going on Wednesday," Meryl said. "Wanna sleep over?"

"Meryl, that's a bit sudden," Reeve said, frowning lightly.

Meryl pouted, but nodded, saying, "I guess it is kinda soon..." To Toriko, she said, "We only just met today."

It was surprising but endearing how close Meryl already considered them; Toriko had never experienced such openness before. She was tempted to say 'yes', but the reservation she felt about spending the night at somebody else's house outweighed the desire. That, and propriety.

_"I haven't even been with Father a whole month yet. I don't want to make it look like I'm trying to run away..."_

Dinner passed in pleasant conversation, with the adults mostly talking among themselves (along with interruptions from Rose; she kept trying to talk to Sephiroth). Meryl and Toriko had their own conversations, mostly commentary on what was going on. Toriko found Meryl to be vivacious and intelligent, though not exceptionally so, and her company was overall quite pleasant. But more interesting than Meryl was the Tuesti family dynamic. Toriko couldn't help but liken the interactions among the Tuestis to a group of kittens playing: they wrestled playfully with each other, much to the delight of the observers.

_ "I'm glad to see you're so amused," _Sephiroth thought at her. _ "I'm starting to get bored. Reeve and Naomi are fine, but Rose... Is there any way you can distract her?" _

_ "I'll try to think of something." _

"EEEK!" Rose suddenly screamed, throwing herself away from the table.

"Bwahahahaha!" Meryl cackled, clapping her hands. Toriko looked at her food, trying not to smile. It was painfully obvious what had just happened...

Reeve swung down to look under the table. "Cait!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" The robot cat yelled, and Naomi let out a small scream of surprise; Toriko and Meryl looked under the table to see the cat leaping into her lap. "I won't do it again, I promise!"

"What the..." Sephiroth stared at Cait, clearly nonplussed.

Standing in Naomi's lap, the robotic cat saluted Sephiroth sharply and said, "Sieg Heil, meinen Bruder!" before leaping off, just milliseconds before Reeve made a grab for him. Toriko sat up just in time to see Reeve babble, "I'm sorry about that," even as he jumped out of his chair and ran after the robotic cat. Cait was shockingly fast running on just two legs, and unlike Reeve, he could run and talk at the same time.

"I just got bored!" The cat yelled, dashing around the couch; Toriko couldn't stop from laughing as Reeve chased him around the furniture, murder in his dark brown eyes. Meryl was shrieking with laughter. "Jeez, it's not like I was chewin' on her ankle or anything—come on, Reeve, lighten up! This ain't good for your blood pressure! WAH!"

Sephiroth had been carefully tracking the robot cat with his eyes, and in a movement too quick to be perceived by normal people, had grabbed Cait Sith by the scruff of his cloak and lifted him into the air.

"Fascinating," Sephiroth murmured, turning Cait Sith from side to side.

"Please don't eat me," Cait Sith said at once.

"Be quiet, you!" Reeve hissed, walking up and taking the cat from Sephiroth. "Sorry, Sephiroth—Cait, open your mouth."

"Mm-mmm!" Cait Sith firmly clamped his mouth shut and shook his head, his crown glinting.

"Azimuth," Reeve said flatly, and Cait Sith's mouth popped open with a surprisingly loud click. Cait squalled his fury as Reeve stuck his finger in the cat's mouth and then went limp almost comically fast as the Executive pushed the 'off' button. "Meryl, put this back in your room," he said, sitting down and handing his daughter the now floppy Cait Sith.

"Aww, you killed him," Meryl pouted.

"He needed charging anyway," Reeve said.

Meryl's pout deepened and she made as if to slide out of her chair, saying, "May I be excused?"

"Certainly, dear," Naomi said; she seemed to have recovered from the shock of having Cait jump into her lap, while Rose was red-faced with embarrassment. "Rose, will you help me clear the dishes?"

"Sure, Mom," Rose said, rising to her feet and smoothing down her dress. She was pink in the face and flustered over appearing so silly in front of Sephiroth; again, Toriko might've felt sorry for her but the girl had no idea what her father was really like. No Prince Charming, him.

"Let's go play," Meryl said at once to Toriko.

"That's an incredible machine, Reeve," Sephiroth murmured, lacing his hands together and leaning his chin on his knuckles. "I take it 'azimuth' was an override?"

"Yeah," Reeve said. "His on/off switch is in his mouth and as you saw, sometimes he doesn't feel like opening it. It used to be that pulling on his tail would shut him off, but there were a couple of instances where the tail came off, so..."

"You made that yourself?" Sephiroth asked, interested.

"Hehe... Yeah," Reeve said, grinning. "He's a work in progress, but I'm pretty proud of him."

"Rightfully so..." Sephiroth's eyes flicked from the floppy Cait to Reeve as he said, "What do you think about a collaboration with my department?"

Reeve blinked and stroked his chin. "Interesting..."

"Eew, shop," Meryl said succinctly. Toriko thought the conversation was actually getting interesting, but spending time with Meryl was novel enough for her to want to follow the girl instead. "Let's go charge Cait."

"How do you do that?" Toriko asked.

"It's pretty gruesome," Meryl said, her words at odds with her giggling. "You have to rip open his stomach and plug him into the wall. Dad's been trying to make a compact energy generator for him, but nothing's really worked so far."

"I see," Toriko said.

Cait's charger looked like a stripped engine the size of a soup can, from which sprouted two long wires. At Meryl's urging, Toriko plugged one of the wires into the wall while Meryl felt around on Cait's stomach and eventually found an open seam between the black and white fur on Cait's belly; taking the other wire, Meryl stuck the end of it into the hole and smiled when something clicked.

"All done," Meryl said as the thin slivers of Cait's eyes began to glow red, giving him a rather demonic cast. Also disturbing was the way the charger corded out of his stomach, balled into the generator, and then plugged into the nearest socket, giving the impression that Cait's disemboweled intestines had been jammed into the wall. Toriko tried to suppress shudders of revulsion as she was inexplicably reminded of the lab.

Luckily, Meryl seemed to notice this and said, "Let's go downstairs and break out the cards; I bet my dad's challenged your dad to a round of poker by now."

"Poke 'er?" Toriko repeated, getting the not-so-good image of Sephiroth and Reeve chasing Naomi around. There were definite downsides to knowing this much about sex...

"It's a card game," Meryl said, correctly interpreting Toriko's look of puzzlement. "Pretty fun stuff. I'm not that good at it, but Dad's a whiz. You wanna try? The more people playing, the better."

"Okay," Toriko said.

"Yay!" Meryl ran to her bedside and opened the drawer of the nightstand there, pulling out a much-used deck of cards. "Let's go."

Bemused, Toriko trotted after Meryl as she took off down the stairs; didn't the girl ever walk? Sephiroth and Reeve were still talking business when they came down, but Meryl blithely interrupted their conversation by slapping the pack of cards between them.

"Poker?" She asked, her eyes bright.

Sephiroth blinked, surprised but not offended. Toriko caught Reeve frowning at Meryl's obviously rude behavior, but she could also tell he was intrigued by the offer of poker. Looking at Sephiroth, Reeve asked, "Wanna play?"

"Sounds good to me," Sephiroth said. "But I'm a little rusty, so let's not play for money, hmm?"

"I wouldn't play for money with my kids," Reeve said, smiling, even as Meryl plunked herself into a chair. Toriko walked around and took a seat by her father, if only better to watch Meryl. The girl was positively glittering with excitement and Toriko wondered if she'd been lying about her skill level; why would a person who was intermediate with the game at best enjoy playing so much? She pondered over this as Reeve began to shuffle the cards, and Rose and Naomi also sat down to play.

_ "I'm going to beat his socks off," _Toriko caught her father thinking.

_ "That's not nice, Father," _she scolded.

_ "Look at his eyes," _Sephiroth said. _ "He wants to do the exact same to me." _

And it was true; Reeve's face was calm, but there was a certain glint of excitement in them. Toriko began to wonder which father would win.

_"But of course that's a silly question; Father will probably end up reading his mind."_

_ "I leave nothing to chance," _Sephiroth agreed.

Well, duh. Toriko, though, had already decided not to cheat. Where was the fun in a game if you already knew where everything was going?

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I've got to cut it off here because otherwise it'll get too long... Plus, I've got exams tomorrow. Bleah! Definitely time to go beddy-bye.

And Sieg Heil, meinen Bruder means, "Hail, victory, my brother!" I think I was on crack when I wrote that—I mean, I could have gotten away with 'Sieg Heil!' just because Cait's being cheeky, but 'meinen Bruder'... I suppose Cait would naturally noticed Sephiroth's kitty eyes. Anyway, the line's silly but I just can't make myself take it out. It's a 'little darling', and I'm not a good enough writer than I can ruthlessly strike it down.

/\/\/\/\/\


	54. Chapter 49

Put Your Lights On

12.5.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Forty-Nine

/\/\/\/\/\

Nanashi landed softly on the Demon's balcony, a second box tied to her back. It was evening, and the onset of winter made it so dark that Nanshi felt completely confident running around in Midgar without worrying about being harassed by bigots—if they could find her in the first place, anyway. Nanashi exhaled and her breath gusted out in a billowing white cloud, drawing attention to just how chilly the nights were getting.

But that was beside the point. Placing a hand on the sliding glass door, Nanashi pushed the balcony door open and stepped into the apartment, her entire body tensing. The lights were off, but that didn't mean anything. Listening keenly, Nanashi stood stock still for a full minute as she listened for sounds of life.

_"Nothing..." _

Sighing in relief, Nanashi unslung the box from her back and placed it carefully in the middle of the floor; it was another gift from Lady Seishi to her daughter, and Nanashi wondered how the first gift, the koto, was faring. She also wondered if Toriko had discovered the poisoned hairpins the koto had been hiding.

_"Somehow I don't think Lady Seishi would have sent her those if she didn't think Toriko would find them... Using them might be another matter."_

The box that Nanashi was delivering now was full of soft silk and stiff brocade; a New Year's kimono, resplendent far beyond what any eleven-year-old girl should wear but compensation (so Lady Seishi thought) for Toriko's early years of poverty. Among the various ornaments enclosed with the kimono was a _shukusen_, an iron-ribbed fan that could be used to crack heads or slit throats, depending on whether it was closed or open. More delicate and dangerous items; Nanashi couldn't help but wonder why Lady Seishi sent her daughter such things.

_"Surely she doesn't believe the Demon would hurt his own child..."_

But if that were the case, why had Lady Seishi commanded Nanashi to remain in Midgar, where she could come to Toriko's rescue should anything terrible happen? Nanashi sighed again, ruefully realizing that she'd probably received a permanent assignment. After all, considering what had happened to Lady Seishi, it was highly unlikely she'd believe the Demon capable of being fatherly or even nice.

_"Which means I must stay here, watching Toriko forever..."_

Jingle jingle. Nanashi froze as she heard the crunching noise of a key being put into the lock, and for a moment all her ninja went out the window in a rush of pure panic.

_"The Demon! Shit! He's home! He's home! What do I do?"_

Nanashi threw herself behind the couch just as the door swung open, and as she landed on her front she realized with a chill of horror that she'd left the door open. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Of course she'd meant to escape right after she'd set down the box, but how could she have left such an obvious trace of her presence?

_"He will know there's someone in his house..."_

"That was _amazing,_ Father," said a young girl's voice—Toriko, no doubt. Nanashi was shocked to hear the amount of familiarity and (dare she say it?) warmth in her tone.

"Shut up," the Demon growled. Interestingly, he did not sound as angry as his words might have implied.

"You knew what cards he had and you still lost."

"It was a tactical surrender," the Demon said peevishly. Nanashi could feel his footsteps through the floor, but she could not hear them; how strange, and how frightening. "The bluffing was getting ridiculous."

Toriko laughed. It was a low, somewhat startling chuckle that sounded like it would have come out of an older woman—someone Nanashi's age, perhaps. Nanashi heard the girl step lightly over the floor as she asked, "Some coffee, Father?"

"Please."

What was this? Nanashi listened intensely to the sounds of Toriko making coffee, the Demon's light (she could hear them, if she listened hard) footsteps over the tile. Their familiarity seemed to indicate that they almost had a normal father-daughter relationship, or perhaps something closer to camaraderie: normal daughters didn't rib their parents like that. But all that disappeared in the wave of relief that Nanashi experienced when she noticed that neither of them seemed to have noticed the open door—

Nanashi froze as a booted foot, large and heavy, planted itself squarely in the small of her back.

"Well, well," purred the Demon, and Nanashi turned slowly to look over her shoulder, sweat beading on her hairline. Only the Demon could make a plain white shirt and black pants look so menacing... "What's this?" He asked, tilting his head and smiling. "Could it be the _kunoichi_ who's been leaving my daughter presents?"

Nanashi clamped her teeth together. She wouldn't say one word, not one bloody word to betray Lady Seishi...

_"She trained me to be a geisha so I could hide in plain sight... Besides, never a word to this man. Never to the Demon who hurt her so badly."_

But if he already knew about her, that must have meant Toriko had talked...

_"Or had it forced out of her!"_

The Demon leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee as he applied all of his weight to the foot on her back. On the one hand, it was one of the crudest intimidation tactics—preventing the victim from getting up—but seeing as Nanashi was only five-foot-nine and the Demon was six feet tall with a matching weight, it was appallingly effective.

"Coffee's done," Toriko said from the kitchen. Her tone of voice betrayed no perturbation, and Nanashi wondered where that eerie calmness came from.

"Thank you, Tori," the Demon said, his eyes still fixed on Nanashi. Gods, what eyes! Burning green, blazing like hellfire, and slit like a cat's—they were wholly unnatural. Nanashi clenched her hands so he wouldn't see them trembling, and winced as he began to press harder on her back. What frightened Seishi most about this situation were the rumors of the Demon's much-vaunted strength...

_"He broke Lady Seishi's hips... Could he break my back? Probably..."_

"Father, why don't you let her up?" Toriko called. Ye gods, she could have been talking about the weather. "Your coffee will get cold."

"In a moment," the Demon said, his voice low and tight with anticipation. Nanashi's pulse quickened and she planted her hands against the floor, ready to push up. But at the first sign of resistance, the Demon stamped firmly on her back, and as Nanashi gasped with pain the Demon said, "We have an intruder, Tori, and she must be dealt with."

"Are you going to kill her?" Came that frighteningly calm voice.

Something flickered in the Demon's eyes, and for no apparent reason he sighed and took his foot off Nanashi's back. Nanashi scrambled to her feet, whipping around and yanking out the knives she had strapped to her forearms—just in case. The Demon looked merely interested.

"Tori," he said, and Nanashi saw Toriko look up out of the corner of her eye. "Watch this woman," the Demon said, and attacked.

Right from the start, Nanashi knew he was playing with her. It had nothing to do with the smirk on his face, or the way he used his hands—just his hands!—to slash and stab at her. No, it was the superhuman fluidity of his movements that convinced Nanashi he was messing with her, that he was testing her for...for... Well, for something. For Toriko at the very least, because Nanashi could feel the young girl studying her.

The 'match' went on for about ten seconds. Then with no warning at all, the Demon ended it with a swift punch to her stomach, and Nanashi went down like a novice, stars in her eyes and a strangled cry in her throat. There was no way to prepare for a blow she never saw coming, and as she collapsed to the floor, clutching her abdomen, the Demon walked over to the kitchen and said, "I hope you learned something."

"Yes, Father." Toriko said, and Nanashi heard her bustling in the kitchen again.

_"Yes, Father." _Nanashi supplemented in her head._ "I've learned that if I stand against you, you'll beat the tar out of me!"_

She tried to push herself up, but the instant she let go of her stomach, a wave of pain so great she could barely see swept over her eyes and filled her veins with agony, so Nanashi curled up on the floor and panted over the broken pieces of her composure and pride. Fuck, _fuck_, FUCK! How could he do this to her? How could he take her out with one punch?

_"He's the freakin' Demon, that's why..."_

A mere five feet away, the open glass door beckoned, a clear avenue to the chilly night air and escape. Nanashi laboriously uncurled and began to drag herself toward the door, dignity be damned.

_"If I get up, he'll hit me again to teach his daughter another 'lesson'..."_

Nanashi's fingers brushed the cool glass, and she stared as the door smoothly rolled shut, as eloquent as any guard or mechanized alarm that she wasn't going anywhere. As Nanashi gaped, the Demon sipped coffee in the kitchen and purred, "Did I say you could leave?"

Nanashi balled her hands into firsts, cursing under her breath. Shit, shit! She tried her best to school her panicking thoughts, which were screaming things like, _"I'm going to die!" _and _"He really IS a Demon!"_ and tried to focus on a way to escape, but the nearest avenue had been blocked off and her stomach was still a roiling ball of pain. If she was going to get away, it wasn't going to be any time soon.

So Nanashi lay on the floor and went back to nursing her bruised stomach, listening to the Demon drink coffee. Toriko had finished doing whatever in the kitchen and she came over now, walking up to the box Nanashi had delivered. Kneeling in front of it, Toriko studied the box for a moment.

"From my aunt?" Toriko asked at length, looking at Nanashi.

"Y-yes," Nanashi said, and winced when she heard how weak she sounded.

"Nice," the Demon said. "Same as the last?"

"No," Toriko said, opening the box. The sudden glow that colored her face would have warmed Nanashi under other circumstances. "No, not at all," Toriko said, her voice softening.

"Your aunt has expensive taste," the Demon commented: Nanashi wondered if he knew that Toriko's 'aunt' was really her mother. Just how much had Toriko told him? "Do you want to try it on?"

"No," Toriko said, closing the box. "Not yet."

"Alright," the Demon said. Nanashi sourly noted that he became docile unnaturally quickly when dealing with his daughter—should she be relieved or worried? "Put it on your room."

"Yes, Father," Toriko said, picking up the box. As she padded quietly out of the room, Nanashi felt a sudden chill come over her.

"_It's just me and the Demon now... I'm completely at his mercy. He could do anything and nobody—especially his own daughter—would do a thing to help me..."_

Visions of rape and torture streamed through her head, but Nanashi noted even as she lay quietly sweating on the floor that the Demon seemed quite content to stay where he was and drink his coffee. Pulling herself a little further out, Nanashi leaned her head out and saw the Demon sitting calmly at the kitchen counter, seemingly lost in thought. Minutes ticked by. Nanashi's heart pounded in her chest and her stomach writhed in pain and dread anticipation.

"What are you going to do with me?" Nanashi asked finally, unable to control herself.

"I'm going to have you teach Toriko _ninjutsu_," the Demon said, not looking at her. "Continental fighting is not at all geared towards women, and I'd like for her to be able to defend herself."

Nanashi blinked. There were no words to accurately describe her shock, except perhaps the word 'freeze'; Nanashi couldn't hear her heart beating anymore, or the labored in and out of her breath. Her thoughts were similarly stalled; what was more shocking, the fact that the Demon wanted her to divulge the sacred secrets of _ninjutsu,_ or that he wanted his daughter to learn them for self-defense?

"I can count the number of men who want their daughters to learn weapons on one hand..." 

"Why?" She asked.

"I just told you why."

Nanashi fell silent. The Demon's voice had had just a hint of finality, but a hint had been enough. She listened to him drink coffee.

"Starting tomorrow," he said, "You come over thrice a week—at least one day on the weekends unless I say otherwise. For the completion of each new skill Toriko learns, I will give you a thousand gil."

A thousand gil? Nanashi felt her face burn with shame. Such secrets, that clans of _kunoichi_ lived and died for, were only worth a thousand gil?

_"You might as well call me a different brand of prostitute."_

"What if I refuse?" Nanashi asked, looking at him.

"I doubt you're here legally," the Demon said with dreadful coolness. "Even if you are, it's no great task to have your papers revoked. Either I could send you back in disgrace—and maybe even in pieces—or I could hand you over to Continental Immigration to have them _sort you out_..."

Sort you out: the way he said those three words sent images of imprisonment, even death—for ninjas of both sexes were irrationally feared in the Continents— and definitely cold shivers down Nanashi's spine. Implacably the Demon said, "I expect you're here to keep an eye on Toriko anyway. Wouldn't that be easier to do as her teacher?"

_"Don't tell me how to do my job!" _Nanashi mentally flared. _"...Wait, my job? When did I start thinking of teaching Toriko as my job?"_

As Nanashi wrestled with herself, the Demon put down his coffee cup and turned around, saying, "I'll write you a check, and I expect to see you at eight o' clock tomorrow morning."

There was no room for argument in his tone. More than that, there was no room for any other possibility. Death, disgrace, or being turned over to the questionable forces of Immigration: between that and being the _sensei_ of the Demon's daughter, what real choice was there? As soon as the Demon spoke, Nanashi felt her world narrowing into the single future he had laid out. Even worse, she did not—could not—question him. Resistance was not futile, it was nonexistent.

"You wall-jumped up, didn't you?" Sephiroth asked as Nanashi laboriously pushed herself to her feet. "Take the elevator down this time; you'll probably kill yourself if you try to get down the same way."

He was right, but that didn't stop Nanashi from glaring mutinously at him as she tottered toward the door, one arm still over her injured stomach. As she grasped the doorknob, Toriko came into the room and looked at her, tilting her head.

"See you tomorrow, _sensei,_" she said politely.

Nanashi grit her teeth and opened the door, dragging herself out. Fiends, the both of them; there was an unnatural solidarity in the way they interacted and how they viewed her. Between the two of them, there was no escape...

"Demons," she growled as she tottered down the hall. "Demons!"

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Nanashi had no choice. We're dealing with people who can poke in other people's minds, remember? She's not weak-willed, she's just ignorant. And they (you know of whom I speak) are rather unscrupulous.

/\/\/\/\/\


	55. Happy New Year'sEve!

PYLO New Year's Eve Bonus!

/\/\/\/\/\

PYLO (Put Your Lights On) is a fanfiction by kleptomaniac0, which therefore by definition mean that the FFVII characters do not belong to the author and ergo do not garner any profit for said person. If sued, the author will simultaneously freeze and combust. This will result in a local hailstorm of flaming comets. Therefore... Yeah, you get the picture.

/\/\/\/\/\

This bit takes place somewhere in the story. That's all I really know. It doesn't fit anywhere in the main plotline, hence the "bonus" in the title. Happy New Year's Eve! For all you legal people, don't get too drunk. Actually, that's directed at everyone, because we all know that underage people don't automatically upchuck booze if they drink it... That might make law enforcement's job a lot easier, but too bad. Besides, how do you know your limits if you don't start early?

/\/\/\/\/\

During the war, the Wutaiese population of Midgar had practically vanished from sight for safety reasons: it had been a long and ugly campaign, and angry patriots—vets, army and SOLDIER rejects—had roamed the streets at night, with misfortune falling heavily on whatever child of Da-Chao happened to be about. But the war was some five years done with now, and slowly but quietly the Wutaiese were coming back. First a restaurant here, then a market there: it was almost as if the Midgarian Wutaiese were like seedlings, certain to die if they came too soon after winter.

Tseng walked down the street, his hands in the pockets of his long wool coat. Snow dotted the ground, patchy for the week of warm weather that had ended the precious year: his shoes squished through the dirty slush, but like everything else in Tseng's life, the snow didn't stick. Hardship or hard weather, everything just rolled off Tseng's polished exterior. Yet as usual, his stomach was dancing with anxiety.

"_Please forgive my impiety," _Tseng prayed silently to Da-Chao. _"The temples have been closed and hidden for the last five years, but even so..."_

Tseng was only half Wutaiese, but his parents had been unified in their belief of the shamanistic Wutaiese religion. A great deal more informal than the Continental church—or at least the way Tseng's parents had practiced it—the Wutaiese religion requested his family's presence as often as they felt like going, which was five times a year: New Year's, Endyear, Midsummer, Boy's Day, and Children's Day. Tseng had fond memories of all those times, where he'd run around with the other half-and-half kids his age, speaking in a chaotic mishmash of Continental and Wutaiese that was arguably a language all its own: the mystery was largely due to speed, though, and not through any change in grammar or syntax. Tseng mouthed a tongue twister like a prayer as he walked down the Sector Four street.

As subtly and gradually as tulips emerging in spring, the Midgarian Wutaiese trickled into the streets. Elderly grandmothers tottered along with the determination of tortoises, followed or passed by parents with children. Tseng saw glimpses of cherry red silk and brocade under drab wool coats, and girls wore scarves tied loosely over their elaborately upswept hair. This ethnic pride, hidden though it was, made something in Tseng's chest swell painfully, and he suddenly felt ashamed of his neat suit and tie. On impulse, he reached up and pulled the elastic band from his short ponytail, letting his hair brush again his shoulders. It really should have been down to his hips, but Tseng wasn't that traditional.

He rounded the corner that preceded the Sector Four Temple and stopped, his breath catching in his throat. The charming red-tiled temple, a perfect little piece of Wutai on the Continent, was gone. The red _torii_ that he'd played around in his youth was still standing, but it had gone dull with neglect, and the carved benedictions that had decorated the sides had been gouged out by crude, hate-filled implements. There was a charred stump in the corner of the temple's large courtyard, the pitiful remnant of what had been a magnificent cherry tree. Tseng shut his eyes, suddenly cold, and suppressed the urge to vomit.

"_Those fucking paleface devils... How could they do this to a holy place? It was just a temple..."_

Dimly he became aware of laughing. Temper flared in him and he opened his eyes, glaring at the source of the sound. To his shock, it came from a group of small children, perhaps five or six years old—certainly they were too young to remember what the temple used to have been. One of them tapped the scarred _torii_, calling, "Safe! Can't get me!"

"Cheater!" Another child yelled.

Tseng clenched his teeth, balling his hands into fists. There was no real reason for him to be so angry at mere kids, but it was as if they mocked the ruined temple by treating it so cavalierly: couldn't they see the signs of what had been?

Growling angrily under his breath, Tseng stalked past the children before he could snap at them and joined the slow stream of people who were waiting patiently to go into the temple proper. Inside there was a single gnarled monk Tseng had never seen before, who wore saffron robes and several long rosaries, and who spoke cheerful and somewhat toothless blessings. Tseng looked around as he entered and felt something in him ease a little: the inside of the temple was still dark with the caked incense smoke of ages, which lent the air a close, heavy fragrance that made Tseng sigh. At least this had remained the same.

At the front of the temple, there was a carved statue of Da-Chao as he appeared on the mountains above Wutai, his multiple visages presenting the virtues of austerity, serenity, and discipline. Alongside it was—or had been, Tseng saw with a wrench—a spectacular statue of Leviathan, carved from a massive block of moss green malachite. It had been the Sector Four Temple's treasure; Tseng remembered his parents donating gil to have it shipped over from Wutai. Now there was just a concrete sculpture. Tseng swallowed as the loss struck him like the sudden disappearance of an organ.

The line shuffled steadily up, and coats were shed as the pious approached the altar. Now Tseng saw the promise of Wutaiese finery fulfilled as dusters fell away to reveal New Year's kimonos in dazzling shades, with the young women claiming the most beautiful colors. Tseng was glad to see that he wasn't the only one wearing Continental clothes: most of the men were wearing suits, so his Turk uniform was unremarkable, and the married or matronly women wore stately _hamboku_ that were kinder to their plumping figures. Everyone, Tseng included, was given a stick of incense by the gnarled monk at the altar, and Tseng kneeled alongside the rest of the faithful to light it at the provided row of candles.

Three bows, each from the waist with eyes closed: Tseng placed his stick of incense before the statue of Da-Chao and stepped back to let someone else do the same. The people around him put their hands together and bent their heads in prayer: Tseng could hear some of them whispering for things as prosaic as health and prosperity to slightly odder requests, like the ones voiced by children for certain toys and the returned affection of a crush. Tseng put his hands together and wondered what he should pray for.

"_I've been self-sufficient ever since I left my parents' house and joined the Turks: I never asked for anything from Da-Chao or Leviathan because I knew I could get it myself. What do I pray for? Why am I even here?"_

Tseng bowed his head, closing his eyes, and decided to take the easy, inoffensive route.

"_Da-Chao and Leviathan, I'm not the most pious of people and I don't even know how to pray properly... I've never done it in my life, to be honest. But believe me when I say I'm faithful, so for the new year I pray for the safety of all my Turks, even though none of them are Wutaiese... I consider them my friends as well as my subordinates, and our job's dangerous enough that we'll take anything we can get..."_

It had to be one of the shittiest prayers in existence, but Tseng couldn't think of anything better. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he turned and left the temple, threading his way through the coming pious. He couldn't decide what he felt. Tseng saw the children playing around the _torii_ again and wondered if he should really be angry: was their innocent gamboling disrespect, or a peculiar kind of continuity between his past and now? Was it a cosmic lesson, 'the more things change, the more things stay the same'?

Tseng sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was starting to remember why he hadn't gone to the temple since his leaving his parents' house. Like the Continental church he'd attended a few times with Rude and Reno, he always seemed to leave with more questions than answers, more disquiet than calm, and always just slightly irritated.

But he still left a purse of money in the temple's offering box, maybe enough to make whoever was in charge start thinking about buying a malachite Leviathan again.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I'm not sure what I was thinking when I typed this. The only thing I definitely remember was "Toriko and Sephiroth aren't the only ones in this story", so somehow we got Tseng visiting a temple on New Year's...

It's been a really long time since I've been to an Asian temple—in fact, the last time I went to one I was approximately three feet tall—so I made up a lot of details. I'm not really interested in being terribly accurate anyway, since religion is not a subject I'll be spending a lot of time on.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed the bonus. Happy New Year!

/\/\/\/\/\


	56. Chapter 50

Ah, the much-vaunted Chapter 50 of...

Put Your Lights On

12.11.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Fifty

/\/\/\/\/\

When Sephiroth had been very young, wireless transmitters had been planted in the biggest of his bones to give Hojo continual data on his most fascinating and valuable specimen. Squirreled into every major Shin-Ra computer hub in the world was a secret network that received data from these transmitters and sent them back to the main labs in Midgar, where Hojo spent at least two hours every day to make sure nothing was wrong with Sephiroth.

Similar transmitters had been placed in Awe. Hojo spent two hours over her data too, and the signs he received were not encouraging. While Sephiroth's Jenova-infected DNA was multiplying at an alarming rate, Awe's seemed to be torpid, almost dormant. Her father was currently at about forty percent Jenova cells, which put him several cuts above the rest in physical condition when compared to other SOLDIERS with the same in-military enhancements. Awe was only about ten percent Jenova cells, and though she did have remarkable strength for a girl her age, she was positively frail when her scores were put against her father's from that same time.

A lesser scientist would have said the difference was due to their genetic makeup and Hojo might have agreed. Sephiroth and Awe were not the same person or even identical twins. Similar growth could only be only vaguely expected; after all, they were related and while that would certainly play some role in their development, just how large of a role was largely conjecture. But in any case, Hojo thought the difference was negligible: in a brilliant leap that lesser scientists would have frowned upon, Hojo had injected Awe with Jenova cells to bring her to the same levels are her father, with the idea that since their Jenova-infected DNA was already so similar (indeed, nearly identical) the changes that the increased J-Cell count had wrought in Sephiroth would be reflected in his daughter.

But no. The injected J-Cells had been docilely accepted into Awe's system, but her transmitters had detected no physical or spiritual changes, and she seemed to be functioning the same as she always did. There were elevated levels of dopamine, which Hojo took to mean that she was happier since leaving the lab; that puzzled him, because had being there really been so bad? In contrast to Sephiroth, Awe'd had the kid-glove treatment. Hojo had only done surgery on her a couple of times and always under proper sedation, and she had been allowed to interact with the lab techs and junior scientists. When it wasn't time for a checkup or injection, Awe could be positively social, and Hojo could admit that she had been, at times, rather pleasant. More than once, as he'd debated science issues with her to test the facility of her mind, Hojo wondered what life might have been like if he'd gotten married... Had a kid of his own... And maybe a grandchild or two, specifically a granddaughter he could talk science with...

But Hojo knew his contribution to the world was greater as a scientist than a father, so he'd set aside his modest dreams of a family at the age of twenty-five (and it had _nothing_ to do with that slut Lucrecia) and devoted himself wholly to his career. He'd been rigorous in his study of Sephiroth and had been gradually working to that level on Awe until that disastrous, somehow-orchestrated-by-Sephiroth breakout. Now the two of them were effectively out of his reach, or so believed they were. It had been a bitch to get their bones to accept their transmitters, but those little chips were worth their weight in mastered materia. Especially the ones in their skulls, because those recorded brain waves.

Hojo looked from Sephiroth's printouts to Awe's and back again. Ever since the two of them had started living together, he had noticed that certain parts of their brains had become more much active. Those parts fell in something of a 'black box' category since normal humans didn't have those particular glands, but they were positively afire with activity, causing the transmitters to record an almost steady oscillation of neat lines so closely spaced that they looked like solid bars of brain waves. Hojo didn't know what to make of it, but he had the feeling it was important since he'd only seen patterns like this on one other lifeform...

Jenova.

But the waves emitted from Jenova's brain were weak—not surprising, considering the organism was over two thousand years old and probably in a vegetative state to conserve energy. Sephiroth and Awe's waves were very strong and Hojo noticed though that the waves never changed in frequency, they often changed in amplitude.

"_What could that mean? Is it an indication of physical proximity? Emotional distress?"_

The only way to get more data on this fascinating subject would be to get the two of them into the lab at the same time and run a battery of tests, but Hojo already knew how that suggestion would go over. More glares, more threats, and maybe even another punch across the face—Sephiroth had been a _very_ angry child. Luckily, Hojo was different from most scientists in the fact that he didn't just speculate about experiments, he actually experienced them, and the tried-and-true process to make SOLDIERS had been done on him, thus preventing Sephiroth's ten-year-old fist from breaking his jaw and potentially his neck. Hojo found it amusing that no one seemed to have realized that he was technically a SOLDIER, but that was what came of having such dark eyes; the Mako glow was negated.

But SOLDIER body or no, Hojo was not interested in incurring Sephiroth's wrath; he was all too aware of just how easily and painfully the silver-haired man could kill him if Sephiroth truly lost his temper, as he probably would if his child were involved. Besides, Sephiroth had a history of doing his game best to screw up whatever Hojo was doing: releasing Awe and adopting her was only the latest in a string of aggravations.

"_But there has to be some way to investigate these odd waves... Let's try the physical proximity hypothesis first. What I need is a way for them to become separated... Perhaps for a long period of time._

"_Hmm... I wonder if President Shin-Ra knows of any ways to get Sephiroth out of town for a couple of months, leaving Awe all alone... And vulnerable..."_

Hojo almost cackled with glee. Here was the oh-so-neat solution to one of his problems! Not only would he gather valuable data on the mystery waves by having Sephiroth sent away, but by splitting Sephiroth from his child, Hojo could also recapture Awe.

"_I would use the Turks, but Sephiroth's been snippy about them lately, pulling all this bureaucratic bullshit... I'll send my own personnel after her._

"_And oh, what a tragedy it'd be, the General's daughter being kidnapped. Ha! Sephiroth will know who's behind it, of course, but there's no way he could punish me, not if the President's breathing down his neck. Losing his job aside, I bet President Shin-Ra frightens Sephiroth on some level... _

"_Hooray for childhood trauma. God, wasn't that a disturbing little arrangement! How in the world did that boy manage to turn President Shin-Ra into a pedophile just that once, because Rufus doesn't show the signs of being similarly traumatized..."_

Hojo left those thoughts in the lab as he swept out into the hall, heading for the elevator. He would have to move quickly if he were to catch the President before lunch: sometimes the Fat Man just didn't come back. Impatiently tapping the elevator button, Hojo clasped his hands behind his back and chuckled silently with vindictive mirth.

"_Sephiroth, you foolish boy..." _Hojo laughed to himself. _"This is what you get for fucking with me."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

CLIFFHANGER! WAAH! And Hojo is a bad scientist. If it were me, I just would have observed. Just so you know.

I know some of you are probably really pissed that I'm leaving it at this point, but I want to assure your continued interest in PYLO when I eventually come back from this month-long hiatus, during which I will type more chapters (if I get enough, maybe there will be daily updates again!) and go back to clean up and fix things. Oh, and draw and send out those pictures I promised. They're forthcoming, I swear.

But anyway... Thank you, everyone who's been following the story so far. Ardwynna Morrigu, I can't thank you enough for leaving a long and thoughtful review every chapter: it means so much to me. Silver Whirl, mah girl; you're so awesome for beta-ing this story for me on top of all the homework and work-work you've got to do. J ( ), I always appreciate your meticulous attention to detail: your information expands my horizons. Mom, I love that you're still into my writing, even if it is all fanfics: your support is gently nudging me towards a try at original fiction. Lady Sanzennine, thanks for being the first reviewer of PYLO: I wasn't confident about this fic at all when I posted it, but your glowing review gave me the courage to go on. And look where we are! Chapter 50 in a matter of months. Damn, how the time flies, both in hindsight and foresight. I say this, because before you know it, PYLO will be back!

Thank you, kleptomaniac0.

/\/\/\/\/\

Oh, and sorry for no New Year's bonus—my mind went totally blank.

/\/\/\/\/\


	57. Chapter 51

Put Your Lights On

12.11.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Fifty-One

/\/\/\/\/\

She heard him coming up the path, his patent-leather shoes thumping against the plank bridge. He tried to walk softly, but there was a certain amount of noise that a six-foot Wutaiese man would make, and living in the slums had sharpened Aeris's hearing. Rising to her feet, Aeris brushed the dirt off her hands.

"Hello, Tseng," she said.

"Hello, Aeris," he said back. Their relationship was peculiar; Aeris knew he worked for the Shin-Ra and wanted to take her back to Hojo, but he'd never used force on her. Thus, she treated him warily; after all, there wasn't any reason to be rude. "How've you been?" He asked.

"Fine," she said.

"How's school?"

"Fine," Aeris repeated.

Tseng nodded, unbothered by her reticence. Aeris watched as he inspected a nearby flowerbush, touching one of the frilly yellow blossoms with a surprising amount of gentleness.

"Aeris, what do you know of AVALANCHE?" He asked, glancing at her.

Aeris frowned. "Like...the landslide?"

"The organization."

Aeris thought for a moment, cudgeling what she knew from the news she sometimes watched. "They don't like the Shin-Ra," she said at last, shrugging. "Sometimes they get on the news for blowing up stuff or killing people."

"Would you ever work with them?" Tseng asked.

Aeris frowned. "What's this about?"

Tseng let his hand drop to his side. "Aeris, have you been approached by any strange people asking you to do things for them?"

"Aside from the usual run of perverts?" She quipped. Tseng gave her a look and Aeris shook her head, shrugging. "No one out of the ordinary."

"Anyone tried to kidnap you?" He asked.

"No," Aeris said, and frowned. "Is someone after me?"

"Maybe..."

"AVALANCHE?" She guessed.

"Again, maybe," Tseng said. "They're quite dangerous and they're not entirely stable."

"But what would they want with me?" Aeris asked, her frown deepening.

"The same thing Shin-Ra wants," Tseng replied with surprising candor. Aeris felt something inside her clench, whether in fear or anger she wasn't sure. Continuing on, Tseng said, "But they're not going to be nice about it."

"Hojo's personnel shooting my mom was 'nice'?" Aeris asked bitterly, her eyes narrowing. "Don't think I've forgotten the price of my freedom, Tseng. The only reason you're not dragging me back to the lab is because I won't open the Promised Land unwillingly."

The ghost of a smile flitted over Tseng's lips. "I know," he said gently. Sobering, he said, "AVALANCHE isn't above using Elmyra against you."

Aeris tightened, a sudden flare of possessiveness tinting her vision red. Elmyra had been nothing but kind to her for the seven years they'd played mother and daughter and Aeris cared a lot for the quiet, somewhat fragile widow.

"And Shin-Ra is?" Aeris asked archly.

"If we weren't, we would have done so already," Tseng said calmly. "But we already know coercing you wouldn't make you open the Promised Land either, so there's never been a reason to try. AVALANCHE, on the other hand, doesn't know that... Elmyra doesn't even know how to use a staff, does she?" Aeris's protective anger must have shown on her face, because Tseng said quietly, "I can arrange a protective detail..."

"And be surrounded by you people 24/7?" Aeris shot back. "No thanks."

Tseng sighed. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

I. Not we, which would imply the Company. I. Aeris softened a little. "And that's sweet, Tseng, but I can manage on my own. Is there anything else?"

A smile quirked Tseng's lips. He was fifteen years her senior and physically more intimidating, but apparently he recognized her dismissal. "You have my number if anything happens," he said, turning to go. "AVALANCHE is dangerous, Aeris. I'd hate it if they got their hands on you."

_"If only because they'd succeed where you'd failed," _Aeris thought darkly. But aloud she said, "I'll be fine. Bye, Tseng."

He waved at her over his shoulder and left. Aeris turned around and went back to her flowers. Though she could usually bury her worries in the soil, some of the things Tseng said worried her. It was nothing, really, about AVALANCHE being violent—she had ways to take care of violent people—but rather that they were looking for her for the same reason Shin-Ra was.

_"I suppose they could have known about the Ancients and the Promised Land, but how would they have known about _me?"

Tseng was a Turk and he certainly wouldn't be above using deception to draw her back to Shin-Ra, but Aeris was inclined to think that Tseng would have come up with something more convincing—something cleverer or at least more effective—to make her come back.

_"Well, if it _is _true, it's always nice to have a warning... I don't want to be anyone's tool."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

And we are back! Hahahahaha!

/\/\/\/\/\


	58. Chapter 52

Put Your Lights On

12.20.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Fifty-Two

/\/\/\/\/\

Nanashi walked up the steps of the Demon's apartment building, every muscle of her body taut although she wore casual, easy-to-move-in clothing. Over her shoulder was a duffel bag full of various training materials: today was the day she was going to test Toriko's strength and flexibility. Being the Demon's daughter had to count for something, though Nanashi privately doubted she was very strong: but that was beside the point. Nanashi walked up the steps and stopped as the two security guards at the door intercepted her.

"Name and business?" One of them asked briskly. He was unremarkable in his rent-a-cop shirt and pants, with even the holstered firearm at his side offering him little distinction.

"Nana," Nanashi replied. "And I... I'm the General's housekeeper."

The guards glanced at each other. "Wait here," the second one said. "We need to confirm that."

"Fine," Nanashi said, leaning back and putting her hand on her hip. "You do that."

The first guard frowned, but the second was already heading inside. Sloppy security, Nanashi idly noted: one neck-chop to the guard in front of her and she'd be in as quick as you please. But why cause a stir? She watched the second guard page the General's apartment and apparently get confirmation. Who had he talked to, Nanashi wondered, Toriko or the Demon?

"It checks out," the second guard said to the first as he exited the building. To Nanashi, he said, "Go right in."

So Nanashi did, and she could feel the first guard frowning even more at her as she passed him without so much as a 'thank you'. Nanashi didn't care. She didn't like Continentals and she knew they didn't like her, so why waste air on pointless formalities? Nanashi punched the button for the elevator and went up to the Demon's apartment.

The door was ajar when she got there, so Nanashi lightly pushed it open and looked around, scanning the apartment. Toriko's voice made her look toward the kitchen.

"Good morning, _sensei,_" the girl said, wiping her hands on a cloth; apparently she'd just finished doing the dishes. Turning to face Nanashi, Toriko said, "Father will be out in a moment: he wishes to know what your curriculum will be. Would you like some tea?"

Nanashi was nonplussed and not a little insulted at Toriko's briskness; she was too outspoken for a regular Wutaiese girl, her forwardness verging on disrespectful, but that had to be forgiven: she was half Continental, after all. Putting her bag on the floor, Nanashi said, "Please."

Toriko glanced at her duffel bag but didn't say anything. Turning toward the stove, she said, "I'm afraid we only have jasmine tea; is that alright?"

"That's fine," Nanashi said, shutting the door and leaning against it. She stiffened as the Demon came in, buttoning his shirt cuffs. Even though he was in a plain black business suit with no tie, taking a few years off with the youthful omission, there was no way to mistake him for just a businessman. Hair and face notwithstanding, he exuded a subtle aura of silky menace that made Nanashi's skin crawl.

"Early," the Demon said by way of greeting. Toriko nodded at a cup of coffee that Nanashi hadn't previously noticed and the Demon took it, saying, "Nice ruse."

"Excuse me?" Nanashi said, frowning.

"The housekeeper lie," the Demon explained. Taking a drink of his coffee, he frowned at the cup and put it down, saying, "It'll explain why you'll come over here so regularly."

Nanashi nodded stiffly and watched as Toriko turned around and went to the refrigerator. Pulling out the milk and leaving the door open, the girl handed the carton to her father before going back to the stove. The Demon tipped a thin stream of milk into his coffee before folding the top of the carton shut with a pop. Taking aim at the still open door, the Demon tossed the carton in, his lips tipping upwards as it tumbled neatly in, clipping the door and shutting with a definitive snap.

_"Unnatural," _Nanashi thought, fighting shivers.

"Let's see what's in the bag," the Demon said, his bright eyes flicking to the duffel. "Anything explosive?"

"Of course not," Nanashi said stiffly, picking up the bag and walking over to the counter.

"Anything deadly?"

"I'm not training you," Nanashi said shortly, setting the bag on the counter. "Why should you know?"

"Your prejudices are showing," the Demon said, seemingly off-topic. In a slightly sharper voice, he added, "More to the point, how do I know you won't be less-than-careful with Toriko, if not outright harmful?" As Nanashi bristled, the Demon sipped his coffee and said, "Open the bag."

"Tea, _sensei,_" Toriko said, turning around and setting a steaming cup on the counter. "And Father, your toast is done."

"Thank you," the Demon said, taking a plate with two slices of bread on it.

"Thank you," Nanashi said absently, taking the teacup and glaring at the Demon as she sat at the counter. "And I'm not showing you anything in the bag."

"I'll tell Father what's in it anyway," Toriko said, glancing over her shoulder. "Why are you being so stubborn?"

Nanashi glared at the girl, who returned her gaze coolly for a moment before turning back to the stove. Still glaring, Nanashi snapped, "Children should be seen and not heard."

"How provincial," the Demon said mildly.

His criticism of a common Wutaiese view made Nanashi slap the table, snapping, "What! How dare you!"

"You seem quite mercurial," the Demon commented, tilting his head. "Are you really that good at your job?"

Nanashi opened her mouth, her anger bubbling poisonous and hot inside her as the Demon smirked. But then Toriko glanced at him with mild reproof and the Demon sipped his coffee, assuming a 'who, me?' look as he glanced up at the ceiling. Unfortunately the exchange failed to make Nanashi calmer.

"You're not even my lord," Nanashi snapped, her hands clenched around the duffel bag's straps. "There's no reason I should take this from you."

"I give as good as I get," the Demon said, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly. "Your hostility was amusing for the first five minutes, but if it persists with my daughter—"

"_Your _daughter!" Nanashi exploded before she could stop herself. "How dare you call her _your_ daughter! She's Lady Seishi's, you didn't carry her in your womb for nine months—"

"Seishi?" The Demon said, his brows rising, and Nanashi froze in horror. "So she's still alive."

"Father," Toriko said warningly, looking over her shoulder at him.

He waved dismissively at her, picking up a piece of toast. "I'm not that man anymore," he said, and Nanashi had to suppress the urge to laugh at him. "Besides," the Demon added, "She must be doing well if she's sent you these presents..."

The way he glanced at Nanashi on the word 'presents' made Nanashi bristle again.

"Yes, I mean you," the Demon said, smiling with a cat's amusement. "Seishi was very intelligent; I can't imagine that she wouldn't know I'd eventually catch you... Bend you to my will."

Toriko looked slightly disturbed, which made Nanashi wonder just how much she knew about her conception. The Demon, thankfully, caught her look and his expression became subtly apologetic. He ate his toast quietly, definitely looking tamed.

"How is she?" Toriko asked, looking at Nanashi over her shoulder. "Is she any better?"

"No," Nanashi said frankly. Her eyes flicking to the Demon's hair, she went on to say, "Her hair's beginning to turn white."

"Oh," Toriko said, and there was a wealth of sorrow in her voice, one Nanashi shared. In her illness, Seishi's one pride was her wealth of shining dark hair.

_"If it turns white," _Nanashi thought, _"It'd be like carrying a bit of the Demon around with her."_

"What will we be doing today, _sensei?_" Toriko asked, turning around to face her.

"I need to get an idea of what your capabilities are," Nanashi said, unzipping her bag. "So I'll be looking at your strength and dexterity—"

"She's perfectly conditioned," the Demon said. Nanashi almost snapped, "How would you know?" before remembering whom she was talking to.

"Then I'll teach you some hand-to-hand combat," Nanashi said, looking again at Toriko. "That's all we'll focus on for a while."

"Alright, _sensei,_" Toriko said.

The Demon rose, brushing crumbs off his jacket. "Don't cause any trouble," he said, and Nanashi wasn't sure who he was talking to. Reaching over the counter, he patted Toriko on her bescarfed head and said, "I'll be home at the usual time."

"Yes, Father," Toriko said, readjusting her scarf as he took his hand off her head and picked up his suitcase; it had been lying on the counter. "Have a nice day," she said.

The Demon smiled, his expression devoid of sarcasm or viciousness, and left the apartment. Nanashi sipped her tea, now cooling, and looked at Toriko.

"Do you actually like him?" She asked bluntly.

"Yes," was the instant reply.

"Really?" Nanashi asked, her eyes widening.

Toriko nodded. "He tries," she said sincerely. "Every day, he tries."

"Is he successful?" Nanashi asked skeptically.

Toriko shrugged. "It's hard to say... The same goes for Mother."

Nanashi frowned. "What do you mean?"

Toriko smiled then, and it was a strange and much too grown-up expression. "I know I'm not normal," she said evenly. "And neither of my parents are normal either. You have to wonder how strange I will be when I grow up."

Nanashi didn't know what to say to that. She looked at her cooling tea, curling her hands around the cup, as Toriko turned around.

"We can move some of the furniture for sparring space," Toriko said, wiping the stove clean. "There's also a walled-in garden upstairs, but people could walk in on us."

"Let's move the furniture, then," Nanashi said, looking up. "There's nothing breakable around here, is there?"

"Except for the glass doors, no."

"Good. I don't plan to go easy on you."

Toriko laughed and Nanashi heard the humor in her voice as she said, "Nobody does, it seems."

"Not even your father?"

"Especially not my father," Toriko said, turning around. "He seems to believe I'll be attacked at any time."

"Why?" Nanashi asked, frowning. "Does he have a lot of enemies here?"

Toriko shrugged. "Who's to say? Father can be polite if he wants, but the urbanity doesn't soften how rude he usually is."

"You shouldn't talk about your father that way," Nanashi said, frowning.

"He doesn't mind the truth," Toriko said, smiling.

Nanashi just stared at her for a while. "...You two have a very odd relationship, don't you?"

"Yes," Toriko said, and her smile grew a little. "But it works."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's Note:

Two chapters for being patient... And for no New Year's bonus. Oops.

/\/\/\/\/\


	59. Chapter 53

Put Your Lights On

12.20.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Fifty-Three

/\/\/\/\/\

"Sephiroth."

Sephiroth looked up, frowning. He could count the number of times Hojo had come to his office on one hand, and the visits had always been unpleasant. Still, Sephiroth rose as manners dictated and said, "Hojo. To what do I owe this surprise?"

"It's about your biannual exam," Hojo said, tucking his hands behind his back. Sephiroth hated it when he did that; once Hojo had surprised him with a trank to the neck that way. The reedy scientist didn't look it, but he was an excellent shot.

"My exam isn't for another three months," Sephiroth said, his frown deepening.

"Be that as it may," Hojo said, looking around Sephiroth's office—it was Spartan and cursorily decorated with awards and such—"The results from your last exam were disquieting. And also... Awe."

"Toriko."

"Whatever. She needs to come back too."

A flare of anger so strong it nearly blinded him colored Sephiroth's vision red. Vaguely he wondered why mere words could make him so angry even as he snapped, "Over my dead body."

"Tsk, tsk," Hojo said, straightening his glasses. "Has it not occurred to you that it might be over _her_ dead body? You come back to the lab because it's essential to your life: what makes you think your daughter isn't the same?"

"Because she wasn't born and raised there!"

"As if that makes a difference to her genes! In any case, it's only a couple of injections."

"What kind of injections?" Sephiroth asked, his eyes narrowing.

"You wouldn't understand," Hojo sniffed, supremely disdainful. "But keep in mind that it's in my best interest not to hurt her."

_"You bet it is," _Sephiroth thought darkly, drawing memories of torture techniques from the recesses of his mind.

"Would you like to sit through the exam with her?" Hojo asked with a slight sneer in his voice. "Make sure I'm not mistreating her?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Sephiroth said bitingly.

"Good," Hojo said, so quickly that Sephiroth wondered if he'd blundered into some trap. "Bring her in tomorrow."

"What's the rush?" Sephiroth asked, narrowing his eyes. "You didn't check on me for an entire year after I left."

"There was just the little problem of you being over the ocean," Hojo said snippily. "Awe, however—"

"Toriko."

"Whatever—is right in Midgar, so why wait?" Hojo turned to go and said over his shoulder, "It shouldn't take long. I'll be expecting you at nine."

And then he was gone. Sephiroth glared at the space he'd been before sinking into his chair with a sigh. The truth be told, he'd been wondering how long it would be before Hojo would come around with some excuse to get Tori back to the lab. Sephiroth had tried brainstorming reasonable, ironclad explanations why taking her back would be a terrible idea and though he had a few, they were all moral: things like, "The lab is no place for a girl" and "I won't let her be treated that way" would make no sense to Hojo or President Shin-Ra. Plus, Sephiroth could reluctantly admit to himself that Hojo was right about the idea that maybe if Toriko didn't come back, something would happen to her...

He had missed his exam a few times during the war. The first times hadn't been so bad, but as he'd gotten older and missed a few more, the whining headaches had started. Sephiroth called them the whining headaches because they would always be preceded by a shrill, high-pitched whine that only he could hear—him and maybe dogs. To this day, he didn't know if those whines were the catalysts or the precursors to the most godawful migraines on the Planet.

_"It felt like someone was trying to stuff shrapnel into my head via my eyes... Ears... Nose and mouth... Ugh. Just thinking about it makes me go cold all over..."_

And there was something else, something he'd never tell to any living soul. The last whining headache he'd had had been accompanied by _voices._

_"Nothing distinct and rather faint, but definitely voices... Lots and lots of voices. I think they were trying to talk to me, but I certainly remember thinking they'd crush me if they went on..."_

So though Sephiroth hated his biannual exams, he feared the whining headaches and the voices even more. If there were any chance that Toriko would start suffering the same...

_"I remember hearing someplace that superior medicine is treating the illness before it even manifests... And I want nothing but the best for my daughter. I really don't want to do this, but if it's for her own good, then..."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

The daddy-ness is becoming stronger. It makes me laugh.

/\/\/\/\/\


	60. Chapter 54

Put Your Lights On

12.21.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Fifty-Four

/\/\/\/\/\

Gangson was itchy. Part of that was probably due to the Shin-Ra uniform he'd stripped off an unfortunate and now unconscious trooper, but he suspected the itchiness was largely due to nervousness. After all, here he was, an AVALANCHE member, sneaking around in the Midgar Garrison with a bomb strapped to his stomach.

But it wasn't a suicide mission unless he got caught. Gangson made himself amble towards the locker room, suppressing the urge to dart and duck down the halls. There was no reason he should be nervous, really—the trooper's mask covered all the identifiable parts of his face, unless someone was really good at ID'ing noses. The heavy boots (which were squishy, by the way—ugh!) made his step no different from the other military strides. If he nodded and waved instead of calling 'hello', no one made a fuss about it. Gangson made it to the locker room with no trouble and heaved a sigh of relief.

It was the middle of the day, so everyone was in the mess hall eating lunch. Gangson slipped into the locker room and stalked the aisles, scanning the walls for an open locker. The plan was simple: once Gangson found an open locker, he'd place the bomb inside with the trigger stuck to the door. Any sucker who opened the thing would get a face full of flak, as well as lighting up the rest of the locker room at the very least. Knowing such a powerful object was strapped to his stomach made Gangson nearly want to hurl with the nearness of his mortality.

_"The sooner I get this thing off me, the better,"_ Gangson thought fervently as he spotted an open locker and hurried over to it, checking the area for stragglers. When he saw there were none, he yanked his shirt up and hastily unstrapped the bomb, a messy amalgamation of wires that were hooked to a cluster of plastic explosives. The trigger was in Gangson's shirt pocket: placing the bomb inside the locker, Gangson carefully threaded the long part of the L-shaped trigger into its keyhole, letting the crook of the trigger catch on the locker's vents. There was a minute, almost inaudible click as the trigger locked into place. Gangson shut the locker door, exhaling deeply. So far, so good.

_"No, damn it, don't think that! That's _always_ when shit starts to happen!"_

Fighting to control his instincts, which were screaming "RUN AWAY!" at the top of their lungs, Gangson strolled casually from the locker room and made his way toward the nearest exit, a stairwell. His booted feet echoed too loudly off the reinforced concrete walls, and Gangson looked nervously over his shoulder with every turn he made, steadily more convinced that someone was following him. His stomach writhed like a live octopus, his bowels clenching and his forehead breaking out in a cold sweat.

_"It won't be too soon until I see sunlight again!"_

Twenty-four steps later, Gangson was outside the Garrison. He headed for the main gate, nodding absently at people who called hello. His hands were sweaty fists in his pockets, and he had to breathe slowly through his mouth to stop from hyperventilating. Ruefully he realized that the hard part was only just starting: could he make it out of the Garrison before someone opened the rigged locker? Freedom was only twenty yards away...

With every step Gangson took toward the gate, he thought he could hear concrete crumbling, steel beams twisting, anything to give away the sounds of an incipient explosion. He walked gingerly, trying to feel any shaking through his feet. Somebody asked if he was ill: he shook his head and continued walking. There were two guards at the gate, sitting bored and unaware inside their booths.

"Papers," one of them said monotonously.

"P...papers?" Gangson stammered, his fear-filled mind stretching.

"Yeah, papers," said the other guard. "To see if you're authorized to leave. The gate's not going up otherwise."

Gangson thought fast. "I... I don't have any papers. I just got the call, my wife's having a baby."

"Congratulations," the first guard said, still bored. "Get your CO to vouch for you, then."

"Are you... Are you crazy?" Gangson yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "My wife's having a baby! And you're... You're...!"

"Hey, calm down," the other guard said, sitting up with a frown. "It's just procedure."

Gangson throttled down his scream of frustration with a great deal of effort. Sweat trickled down the back of his sticky uniform as he waited agonizingly for the bomb to go off. Some people had to leave the hall early, right? It was only natural...

"Who's your CO?" The kinder guard asked. "We'll just radio him and he'll let you out, okay?"

What, and be found out? "Forget this shit!" Gangson spat, whipping around. "I'm going now!"

"Good luck," the first guard drawled. "The gate only opens on our say-so."

Gangson swore at him and turned around, abandoning all pretense of normalcy. Time was ticking by the in the wires of a plastic explosive, and every soldier's footstep was a countdown to disaster, to death. He _had_ to get out. Get out now. NOW.

There was a door set into the side wall of the Garrison, one Gangson nearly missed in his mad rush. It was a plain, unassuming door marked simply with the word "Exit", and Gangson ran for it, grabbing the latch. He yanked and swore as the door refused to open.

"Please slide your keycard through the slot on your right," said a cool, computerized voice. "Thank you, and have a nice day."

"Fuck you," Gangson swore, rifling frantically through his uniform's pockets. He almost wept with relief as his fingers closed around a square of plastic and he swung the card through the slot, his hands sweaty and shaking. A buzzer sounded, and Gangson swore again.

"You do not have the necessary clearance to use this door," the voice said. "Please see your commanding officer."

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Gangson roared, kicking the door. "What the fuck is this! Penned up like fucking animals, what the fucking fuck—"

"Hey, what's going on back here?"

Gangson swore and bolted, only to smash squarely into someone who was approaching from the opposite end. The man went down with a yelp and a tangle of limbs, and Gangson tripped over his leg, smashing into the ground.

"What the fuck's your problem, asshole!" The tripped soldier demanded hotly.

"Fuck off!" Gangson shouted, punching him in the face. The man yelled in pain and then punched right back, his fist a brown-black blur to Gangson's right. Too late Gangson caught the flash of Mako light in the man's eyes, and he fancied he heard a crack as the man's fist collided with his face. Instantly the world went dark, and a roaring sound filled Gangson's ears...

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Lots of swearing here, but what can you expect? Scared man, army men... Maybe I should put more in, hmm?

I'll explain why things are blowing up later in the story. You can bet Sephiroth won't be happy about this at all.

/\/\/\/\/\


	61. Chapter 55

Put Your Lights On

12.21.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Fifty-Five

/\/\/\/\/\

"Ohmigod, Mom!" Rose squealed, snatching a shirt off a nearby table and holding it against her chest. "This is so _cute!_"

Toriko looked at Meryl, who returned her vaguely puzzled look with an exasperated one of her own and rolled her dark eyes. Naomi was taking the three of them back-to-school (or in Toriko's case, school-for-the-first-time) shopping. Toriko was slightly nervous for a number of reasons: first off, she'd never been shopping for clothes before, and secondly, Sephiroth had given her an ungodly amount of money. In cash.

"I'm going to get robbed!" Toriko had squeaked as he'd handed her a purse stuffed with several hundred gil notes.

"I'm sure you can handle it," he had said with a smile, and Toriko had scowled. Nanashi had been coming over regularly for a couple of days now, and one of the first things she'd taught Toriko was how to disable an attacker in as few moves as possible. Sephiroth vouched for their effectiveness: he'd been disabled quite a few times by ninjas in his youth, though when Nanashi had offered to demonstrate them on him for Toriko's benefit, he had tactfully (and quickly, Toriko had noted) declined.

The thief-bait purse was currently hiding in Toriko's inner breast pocket, a thoughtful addition by the ever-so-talented Elaine. It lay flat and unobtrusive against her chest, not even its weight bringing attention to its existence, and Toriko knew from constant mirror-checking that it didn't even look like she was carrying anything. Not like Rose, who seemed to be obscenely proud of her pink crocodile-printed purse, or Meryl, who kept her rainbow-zippered PHS pouch hanging noticeably from her belt.

_"I'm surprised neither of them have been mugged," _Toriko thought. Then again, who would mug them in a department store? The four of them were wandering around in one of the high-end shops of Midgar, which specialized in clothing for girls Rose's age. Meryl sighed and tugged Naomi's sleeve.

"We're bored," she said, motioning at herself and Toriko. "Can we go get some ice cream?"

"Sure," Naomi said, though her attention was on Rose. "Just don't go too far."

"Yay!" Meryl cheered and grabbed Toriko by the wrist. "Let's go."

"Your mother just lets you walk off like this?" Toriko asked as the two of them exited the store, pushing open the great glass doors.

"Only if I'm with friends," Meryl said flippantly. "She thinks I'm too silly to go off on my own."

"Why?"

"I dunno. Probably because I have a short attention span or something." Meryl suddenly pointed, saying, "Oooo, coffee!"

"Ew, coffee." Toriko said, wrinkling her nose.

"Let's go get some frappucino!" Meryl said, pulling her along.

"I thought we were getting ice cream."

"We'll get that later."

"Do you change the plan like this very often?"

"Natch," Meryl said mysteriously. "Variety's the spice of life, isn't it?"

"You're going to worry your mother," Toriko said with a frown.

"No I'm not," Meryl said, looking at her and grinning. "It looks like I'm pulling her around right now."

"Wha...hey!"

The coffee place was across the street. Meryl pulled Toriko to a crosswalk, dancing impatiently on her heels as she waited for the light to change. Toriko looked at the slightly taller girl, bemused. Would she have been like this, so careless and bright, if she'd only had different parents?

The light changed and Meryl skipped across, practically dragging Toriko behind her. The coffee shop was filled with older teens and twenty-somethings when the two of them came in, but Meryl showed no unease at this: she went right up to the counter and confidently ordered a long string of something that ended with "and extra whipped cream, please."

"What do you want?" She asked, looking at Toriko.

"Nothing. I don't like coffee," Toriko said.

"What? Why?"

"I don't like the taste."

Meryl scoffed and looked at the shopgirl behind the counter. "And another one for her, please," she said, and turned around as Toriko frowned. "Trust me, you'll like this coffee. It's iced and sugared and—"

"Sugar?"

"Yeah," Meryl said, grinning. "Lots and lots of sugar."

Lots and lots of sugar later, Meryl had somehow convinced Toriko into skipping down the sidewalk arm in arm. Shoppers and couples out for a stroll glared daggers at them as they plowed heedlessly through the thickening crowds, wandering all over the shopping district. Meryl pointed out her favorite places in long strings of breathless, excited babble that Toriko only half-heard: the strange chemical known as 'caffeine' was making her see swirly colors in the sky.

_"Maybe this is why Father drinks coffee so much."_

"—and then I said, 'Rose, you don't _have_ a chest'," Meryl was saying, "And then she yelled and chased me all over the OOF!"

Toriko burst out laughing as Meryl skipped squarely into a mailbox, hitting it so hard she actually bounced off and fell onto her bum. Toriko clutched her sides, gasping for air as Meryl started laughing too, lying flat on the ground with her arms flung out to the sides.

"Oh, I'm stupid," Meryl chuckled, sitting up after the giggles had passed. "I can't believe I went right into a mailbox."

"I can!" Toriko said gleefully.

"Yeah, just wait until it happens to you!" Meryl said, standing and brushing herself off. "Jeez—don't tell Rose about this, okay?"

"Okay," Toriko said with a grin.

For no reason, the hair on the back of Toriko's neck prickled, shredding her caffeine haze in an instant. She barely had time to wonder what was going on before a crashing boom made her whip around, staring toward the north at a plume of dirty black smoke that was rising into the air.

A burst of irrational fear clutched Toriko's viscera. _ "Father!" _

_ "Toriko!" _

The sudden collision of thoughts was like two charging rams slamming full tilt into each other. Toriko staggered, clutching her head with the pain, and she could feel Sephiroth blistering the air with a few choice expletives.

_ "I take it you're alright," _he thought at her grumpily, but with relief.

_ "Yes," _Toriko thought back, wincing as pain flared behind her eyeballs. _ "You also?" _

_ "Fine, but the Garrison's up in smoke. Somehow I doubt that's a busted pipe..." _

_ "Sabotage?" _Toriko thought, catching the word from his mind.

_ "We'll see... Clear the streets," _he said briskly. _ "Whenever something like this happens, the city goes under martial law. Stay at the Tuestis' until I get you." _

_ "Yes, Father." _

"Whoa!" Meryl gasped, her voice full of awe: Toriko turned to see the girl getting to her feet, staring at the plume of smoke. "What is that?"

"Let's get back to your mother," Toriko said, taking her by the hand. Echoing her father, she said, "Somehow I doubt that's a busted pipe."

"It could be a busted gas pipe," Meryl suggested. She jumped out of her skin, Toriko clapping her hands over her ears, as one of the nearby lampposts burst into a loud, echoing siren that reverberated against the buildings and shot down the road.

"Ow!" Meryl yelped, covering her ears. "What the hell?"

"Let's go back to your mother," Toriko shouted over the siren. "Father said that when something like this happens, the city goes under martial law."

"What's that mean?" Meryl shouted back, frowning.

Toriko had to ask Sephiroth, and dutifully she parroted his reply as he said, "The city goes from the government's control to Peace Enforcement's: the streets will be flooded with armed soldiers looking for an excuse to detain anyone who looks suspicious. Considering that it's the Midgar Garrison that's just been blown up, they'll be vengeful and trigger-happy."

"They wouldn't shoot us, we're just kids," Meryl said dismissively. Then, looking at Toriko curiously, she asked, "How did you know it was the Garrison?"

"I went there before," Toriko said, thinking quickly; apparently Meryl had inherited her father's quick reasoning. "I remember where it is, and it's the most likely target for any kind of sabotage."

"Makes sense," Meryl said thoughtfully, and suddenly grinned. "Wow, you're really soaking in the whole military thing, aren't you?"

Toriko blinked. "What?"

"Look at you, talking so calmly about sabotage and crap," Meryl said, her grin widening. "It's like you've lived with your dad your whole life, not just a few weeks."

"Really?" Toriko asked, surprised.

"Yeah, it's like you've absorbed his knowledge or something."

For some reason, that made Toriko laugh. "Well, I assure you that's certainly not the case! We do talk a lot, though... Maybe that has something to do with it."

"Maybe," Meryl said with a shrug. They were jogging back to the store where Naomi and Rose had been, threading their way through older, wiser people who were mindful of the impending lockdown: several times the two of them were bumped and nearly pushed apart, making Toriko thankful for the fact that Meryl had grabbed her hand before wading into the crowd. The people were so thick that if she got lost from Meryl, there was no way to quickly locate her, as there would have been with her father.

"_Or is there?"_

Toriko wasn't exactly sure what went into being able to find a person in her mind; with her father, it was like he was always there, so much a part of her thoughts and mind that remembering a time without his presence felt strangely empty. If that kind of need, the necessity of presence, was needed to find someone, Toriko thought it might be a long time before she could find Meryl. She was a nice girl, but certainly not as essential to her life as Sephiroth was.

Still, she poked at Meryl's mind and was surprised at what she found. Communicating with Sephiroth had accustomed her to dealing with a highly organized mind, a compact cluster of electric thoughts that efficiently presented thought and emotion in one neat bundle. There was no artifice in his mind; he did not think one thing and feel another. Meryl, on the other hand, was a spastic, mercurial mass of thoughts that ranged from, "Mm, coffee!" to "I hope no one died in that explosion" to "I like chicken, I like liver... Damn it! Stupid song!"

Toriko withdrew, her head aching slightly. Was this what everyone's head was like?

_ "Yes," _Sephiroth confided. _ "But that's their conscious, and there's really no reason you should be messing with that. Even the thickest person becomes aware when you try to steer their conscious mind, so all your efforts should be based on the layer below it. Once you influence their emotions..." _

_ "I understand," _Toriko thought, Sephiroth's words seeming to unfold an intuitive knowledge in her mind. Looking at Meryl again, she ducked underneath the churning surface of her friend's mind and found herself on a calmer, slightly more organized layer. Touching around with tendrils of thought, she found a lump of something jittery and tight that she recognized as anxiety.

"_I wonder what would happen if I poked it?"_

Toriko poked the node, and watched in surprise as an electric spark seemed to leap from her thought-tendril into Meryl's mind, lighting up a fine web of previously unseen cables that flew upwards into the chaotic consciousness. Outside, in the real world, Meryl's grip suddenly tightened around her hand, and Toriko glanced at the slightly taller girl to see a flicker of fear in her eyes.

"Everyone's so panicked," she called, looking over her shoulder. "I guess you were right about the martial law thing, huh Tory?"

"Well, I _am_ the General's daughter," Toriko said, amused at how well her experiment had turned out. "This is the sort of thing I should know."

"No kidding."

"Girls!" Naomi called sharply: Toriko heard her before Meryl did, and waved back when Naomi gestured at them from across the street. "This way, hurry," she said as the two of them ran across the road. "We're going home now."

"Mom, what's happened?" Meryl asked, looking up at her mother anxiously. "Where's Rose?"

"I'm right here," Rose said, and Toriko watched as she transferred her shopping bags to one hand to grab Meryl's with the other; for all her bluster, she seemed to be protective. "Where _were_ you?"

"Getting ice cream," Meryl said, blinking. "But we ate it all."

"God, you are such a pig," Rose said.

"Girls, stop," Naomi said severely as Meryl and Rose began squabbling. "We're getting on the train home, now." Looking at Toriko, she said, "Are you alright?"

"Fine, Mrs. Tuesti," Toriko said.

"Good," Naomi patted Toriko absently on the head. "Let's get out of here before the soldiers come."

"Have you been through one of these lockdowns before, Mrs. Tuesti?" Toriko asked as the four of them hurried toward the train station: all around them, other people were jogging to their cars or flagging down taxis.

"A few," Naomi said with a breathless little laugh. "During the war, I was a protestor and got caught in a couple of them."

"Whoa, Mom!" Meryl said, her eyes widening with new admiration. "You were a hippie?"

"Not exactly..." Naomi said with a laugh. "I just didn't approve of certain policies. Watch your step, girls," Naomi said as they began to trot down the subway stairs. "Anyway, I was in a group of other people, and we didn't see the soldiers until too late."

"Did they use pepper spray on you?" Rose asked.

"No, they marched us into the nearest jail at gunpoint," Naomi said, laughing again. "When they say clear the streets, they mean it!"

"Why did they arrest you?" Meryl asked, frowning.

"It wasn't exactly an arrest," Naomi said. "They told us it was to keep us out of trouble while they cleared out the monsters."

"Monsters?" Rose repeated in disbelief.

"Sometimes they break in," Toriko said, recalling a conversation past. "The mechanics in the gates fail, or someone leaves one of them open..."

"That's right," Naomi said, "Though I certainly don't remember seeing any monsters back then."

They were at the foot of the stairs now, and the platform was packed with people anxiously waiting to get home. Toriko looked around, frowning, as Naomi said, "We want the Number 5 East, girls; watch for it."

"We know, Mom," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "We've only been riding the train for six years now."

"What is it?" Meryl asked, seeing Toriko's frown.

"I'm not sure," Toriko said, rubbing her arms. "So many people in one space... I guess I don't like it."

"Claustrophobic?" Meryl inquired, tilting her head. Seeing Toriko's puzzled look, she said, "You don't like tight spaces?"

"No," Toriko said, and then said, "No," again. "It's not that. I don't like tight spaces, certainly, but I don't think that's what's making me uneasy right now..."

A burst of caustic swearing from Sephiroth made Toriko tense in alarm. Amidst the truly shocking array of expletives Sephiroth was blistering the inside of his head with were words like, _"What the hell did they use, C4?" _and _ "We don't have nearly as many casters as we need to clean up this mess..." _

_ "Is it bad, Father?" _Toriko asked, worried.

_ "Worse than I expected," _was the terse reply. _ "Don't talk to me right now, Toriko. I'm busy." _

And as neatly as shutting a door in her face, Sephiroth cut off their mental contact. Toriko blinked, stunned, and felt tears pricking at her eyes.

"_Oh, this is stupid!"_ She thought furiously, swiping the tears away. _"He's just busy, he's not cutting me out... He'll talk to me again."_

But it hurt more than she expected, the sudden mental vacuum. It was like a part of her brain had just stopped working; Toriko actually wondered if she was going to get dumber or become diminished the longer she did not talk to her father.

"_Which is ridiculous... We haven't even been together a whole month yet. There's no reason why I should feel this strongly about him not...being there...anymore... I mean at the moment."_

"Something wrong?" Naomi asked, touching her on the shoulder; apparently she'd seen the tears. Toriko smiled wanly.

"I'm just worried about Father," she said, looking at the floor. "I know he's going out there... What's to say there's not another bomb?"

"A bomb?" Rose exclaimed. It was exactly the wrong thing to say, because Toriko saw the people around them suddenly look frightened.

"_Shit!" _Toriko thought with sudden coldness. _"If they panic in this tight space, we're all dead!"_

Concentrating as hard as she could, Toriko shouted, _"CALM!"_ at the top of her mental lungs, and sighed in relief when everyone seemed to relax a little.

"The Garrison exploded," Meryl explained, though she had the sense to keep her voice down. "Tory thinks it might be a bomb."

"Oh dear," Naomi said worriedly. "I hope that's not an act of war..."

"From who, Junon?" Rose asked skeptically.

"You never know... I'm switching on the news as soon as we get home."

"Ooh, ooh, there it is!" Meryl exclaimed, jumping and pointing. "Number 5 East!"

"Let's go!" Naomi said, and the four of them hurried to the opening doors.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's Note:

Dun dun DUUUUN! So much action, and school hasn't even started yet! Oh my.

Some of you may have noted that Meryl called Toriko "Tory" instead of the way Sephiroth or Seishi may say it, "Tori". There's a reason for this: Meryl, being Continental, can't speak the peculiar l/r sound that's particular to the Asian/Wutaiese language(s), so she overpronounces the 'r' and, as my friend Mystic Mage would say, grinds it. Toriko doesn't mind it.

/\/\/\/\/\


	62. Chapter 56

Put Your Lights On

12.26.05

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Fifty-Six

/\/\/\/\/\

Ring ring! Naomi picked up the phone and switched it on, putting it between her shoulder and ear. "Hello?"

"Naomi," said a dark, familiar voice.

"Sephiroth," Naomi said, taking the phone in her hand. From upstairs filtered the sound of Meryl and Toriko's laughter, vaguely undertoned by Cait Sith's raucous voice; Naomi hoped he wasn't telling them anything too off-color. Putting down the dish she was drying, she turned to lean on the counter and said, "How are you?"

"Fine..." Sephiroth said slowly. "I'm sorry to do this to you, but Toriko needs to stay at your house for a bit longer."

"That's no problem," Naomi said, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"There's been a bomb at the Garrison," Sephiroth said and Naomi gasped; she'd heard as much from Toriko, of course, but she hadn't actually thought that the girl had been right... As Naomi pondered the compounding relevance of "don't judge a book by its cover," Sephiroth added, "Unfortunately, many of the medics were critically injured in the blast, so I'll have to go down there and sort out things myself."

"You're a medic?" Naomi asked, surprised.

"No, but I have Restore materia and a lot of MP. That'll do for the time being."

"Is that my father?" Toriko asked, coming into the living room. Behind her trailed Cait Sith and Meryl, the former rapidly shuffling cards. Naomi nodded absently.

"What time do you think you'll be done?" Naomi asked.

"It doesn't look good," Sephiroth said evasively. "It'll take several hours at least..."

"May I please have the phone, Mrs. Tuesti?" Toriko asked politely.

"Just a moment, dear," Naomi said to her. To Sephiroth, she said, "Toriko wants to talk to you."

"Alright," he said, and Naomi passed the phone. Toriko bobbed her head in thanks and put the phone against her ear. At once she began to speak in Wutaiese, her voice inflected with concern, and Naomi sat in awkward exclusion, wondering what they were talking about. Cait Sith hopped onto the kitchen counter and looked up at her through his comically slitted eyes.

"What's shakin', Mama?" He asked cheekily.

"Be quiet, you," Naomi said, bopping him on the head. Cait Sith grinned and straightened his crown, which she'd almost knocked off.

"Aww, don't you love me no more?" He asked, winking at her outrageously. "I can tell you what they're saying."

"You understand Wutaiese?" Naomi asked in surprise.

"Sure. Popsy put a module in me a while ago." Cocking his overlarge ears toward Toriko, Cait Sith said, "She wants to go down and help out at the Garrison. He's saying no, stay put and don't cause any trouble." Toriko blinked and looked at the phone. "Aaand he just hung up."

"...baka." Toriko muttered, handing the phone back to Naomi. "Thank you, Mrs. Tuesti."

"No problem," Naomi said, and frowned as she saw two suspicious glimmers of light in Toriko's eyes. "Dear, are you alright?"

"Fine," Toriko said, and her voice agreed with that; the shimmer in her irises didn't.

"You're worried about your father, aren't you?" Naomi asked sympathetically; Toriko blinked, and then wiped her cheeks as the movement spilled the tears.

"He likes to pretend he's invincible," Toriko said with a watery chuckle, and reached under one of her ubiquitous fingerless gloves to pull off an ornate and tarnished silver ring. "But...ah, I can't help it. If he dies, I have no one."

"Hey, come on—" Meryl said, touching her on the shoulder. "He'll be fine. SOLDIERS can have cars dropped on them and still be okay."

Toriko sighed and put the ring back on. "I just worry about him if I'm not there to watch him... I'm afraid he'll do something stupid."

"Like what?" Cait Sith asked, his tail swishing in interest.

"I don't know, something dangerous," Toriko said, rubbing her arms. "He's much more resistant to damage than the rest of them, and to minimize the losses they've had today, he'll take the most serious jobs... Not really out of concern, but because he knows he'll be the hardest to kill."

"So?" Meryl said, tilting her head. "I mean, he won't die, right?"

"He might overextend himself," Toriko said, her face darkening. "He might ignore his wounds."

Naomi rose to her feet. "Let's have some tea," she suggested. "That'll calm us all down—"

The three of them turned as a sharp knock sounded on the door. "Who's there?" Naomi called.

"S'Reno of the Turks," came the muffled reply. "The General sent me here to watch Toriko."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Toriko called back, her eyes narrowing.

"How do you..." A small plastic card slid under the door. "Here's my ID. Happy now?"

"Don't get that, Mrs. Tuesti," Toriko said as Naomi started forward. "He could be waiting for you to pick that thing up, and then break down the door and use you as a hostage."

"Hey!"

"Dear, it's a Turk," Naomi said, frowning. "And we're of the Shin-Ra. Everyone else may fear them, but we—"

"I don't like Turks," Toriko said in a tone so even that Naomi knew there was something else to it.

"Well, tough beans, kid!" Reno shouted, sounding irritable. "I don't like this much either—I'm not a babysitter, after all—but your dad said to come here and I don't like getting my ass whupped so much that'll I cheese him off by saying I didn't complete my orders!"

"Your problem, not mine," Toriko snapped.

Naomi mentally rolled her eyes and walked forward.

"Mrs. Tuesti!" Toriko said sharply. Naomi looked over her shoulder as she went to the door.

"I, for one," she said, "would feel safer with a Turk in the house."

Toriko's expression darkened and she looked away as Naomi opened the door. Outside was a tall, lanky young man with a shock of red hair with his hands in his pockets, impatiently tapping his foot. Only the zippered business suit jacket he wore over his rumpled shirt marked him as a Turk; otherwise, he looked like a gangster, complete with two strange red tattoos marking his cheekbones. He inclined his head toward Naomi in an oddly respectful gesture.

"Mrs. Tuesti," he said politely. "Thanks for letting me in. Are you alright?"

"We're fine," Naomi said, stepping aside. As Reno walked in and picked his ID off the floor, she said, "Umm... Excuse me for asking, but you seem awfully young."

"I am," Reno said, sticking his ID back in his pocket. "Just turned eighteen a couple weeks ago."

"What?" Meryl exclaimed. "You're eighteen?"

"One wonders how you became a Turk so quickly," Toriko said in deceptively mild tones. "Surely that is an occupation that requires _experience_ in certain areas."

Reno's eyes hardened. "Yes, I have killed people," he said with shocking bluntness. Meryl's jaw dropped, but Toriko only smirked in a grim, self-satisfied manner.

"Not as many as your dad," Reno went on and Toriko's smirk turned to a frown, "but a fair share of 'em. And if anybody in this house gets threatened, it's my job to kill some more." Looking directly at Toriko, he said, "You got a problem with that?"

"Tch," Toriko scoffed, folding her arms. "Not as long as you follow my father's orders and no one else's."

Naomi saw Reno's face tighten slightly. "...don't worry," he said finally, brushing off his sleeve. "That's been taken care of."

"Hn," Toriko grunted. "We will see."

Reno's look made it apparent he was thinking some very unsavory things, but he wisely kept them behind his teeth. Looking at Mrs. Tuesti, he said, "My job'd be a lot easier if everyone was in the same space. You have an older daughter, right?"

"Yes, Rose," Naomi said with a nod. "I'll call her right now."

"Thanks," Reno said, and Naomi walked past him to go to Rose's room. She caught Toriko saying half of something as she mounted the stairs, but didn't understand what she said. The girl did sound annoyed, though.

_"I wonder why she doesn't like the Turks..."_

Naomi rapped on Rose's door. "Rose? Come into the living room, please."

"Sure," Rose said, and a second later the door opened. "Something wrong?"

"No," Naomi said. "It'll be easier for Reno to keep an eye on us this way, though."

"Who's Reno?"

"The Turk the General sent to watch over Toriko."

Rose's eyes gleamed. "Ooh, a Turk..."

"Down, girl," Naomi said, chuckling a little. Rose's infatuation with men as a whole did not bother her; she was too smart to go chasing after every handsome face, and she had a boyfriend, besides. Rose was very much a 'look, but don't touch' kind of girl.

"Is he cute?" came the inevitable question.

"Come and see," Naomi said. She and Rose looked down as somebody—it sounded like Reno—bellowed in pain. "Now what?"

The two of them trotted downstairs and Naomi's jaw dropped as she saw Reno lying on the floor, clutching his stomach and swearing. Toriko was cracking her knuckles, again with that self-satisfied smirk on her face.

"Toriko! What did you do!" Naomi exclaimed, running up to the injured Turk.

"I just proved I don't need a Turk to protect me," Toriko said a surprisingly vicious tone. "His services are quite unnecessary."

"It was scary," Cait Sith said with a shiver. He was hiding behind the couch, his ears flattened against his head as he peeked over the top. Meryl was staring at Toriko with a mix of fear and awe. "Just one punch and he went _down_,"

"I wasn't ready for it," Reno wheezed, pushing himself to his feet. "God-DAMN it, girl, what's he been feeding you? Steak and steroids?"

"Oh, quit being such a baby," Toriko said, dropping her hands to her sides. "Your organs are probably fine."

"I oughta…" Reno growled, and then seemed to think of something. "I'm gonna tell your dad on you."

Toriko stiffened. "You wouldn't."

"Sure I would," Reno said with relish. "It's gonna go right in my report, right next to, 'Sorry, sir, but your daughter needs a good spanking.'"

"Are you saying you can't take care of one little girl?" Toriko taunted, quickly switching tactics.

Reno pulled something out of his pocket and Naomi started as a silver rod snapped out of his hand. "You know, it just occurred to me you'd be a lot easier to 'take care of' if you were unconscious..."

A shockingly loud crackle of electricity filled the air and Naomi went cold as Reno approached Toriko, holding his electromagnetic rod in front of him like a knife.

"Stop that at once!" Naomi said sharply; to her horror, neither Toriko nor Reno seemed to hear her. It was as if they'd gone to their own battleground.

"I _dare_ you," Toriko said, folding her arms. "And I'll laugh over your bloody remains when Father eviscerates you for hurting me."

"I wouldn't count on that," Reno said with a grin. "The General is very practical."

"I said _stop it!_" Naomi snapped, and stepped forward to slap Reno's hand. He was so startled that he dropped the EM rod on the ground and everybody leapt back as it protested with a loud crackling noise. "You," Naomi said, recovering quickly and looking at Toriko. "Stop being so ornery. And you," she said to Reno, "Just...do your job."

"Yes, Mrs. Tuesti," they grumbled in chorus, exactly like reprimanded schoolchildren.

"Now," Naomi said, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "Now let's all settle down. This will blow over soon enough, so let's just make ourselves comfortable, alright?" She looked at Reno again and said, "Would you like anything to drink?"

"No thank you," Reno said, once again polite as he picked up his EM rod and retracted it.

"Let's play poker," Meryl suggested and Cait Sith threw his hands in the air with a cheer.

"I'll get the cards," Rose said. Naomi watched her retrieve them from under the table, frowning inside.

_"That's odd... She showed no reaction to Reno, and he's very good looking..."_

She put the strangeness aside as she and the girls settled around the coffee table for a round of poker. Reno reclined on the couch, which put his head right by Toriko's.

"Don't breathe in my ear," she said without looking at him.

"Wasn't planning to," he said. He jerked as Cait Sith bounced up and sat on his legs.

"Ahh, the best seat in the house," the robot cat said with a grin. Naomi snorted as he patted Reno's hip. The Turk blinked at him.

"Did you just molest me?" He asked.

"No, but I did take advantage of your person," Cait Sith said, swinging his legs and leaning back on Reno's calf. "I still am, actually."

"Get off." Reno sat up and made a shooing motion at Cait Sith, who just wiggled his way a little further down his legs. "Get off me."

"Just leave him alone, Reno," Toriko said as Meryl shuffled the cards. "You're only encouraging him."

"Nyaha," Cait Sith said, and his whiskers twitched as he grinned toothily.

"Cait, you wanna play?" Meryl offered.

"Nah, I like watchin'," the robot cat said. " 'Sides, I'd beat the socks off y'all and it wouldn't really be fair."

"Shh," Meryl said, dealing the cards. "Less talk, more play. Loser gets her face drawn on with eye pencil."

"Intriguing," Toriko murmured, taking the cards and smiling. Now that she was distracted, she seemed less prone to worry. Still, Naomi kept an eye on her as the one poker round turned to five, and then to ten. Time eased by like syrup, at least for Naomi.

_"When are Reeve and Sephiroth coming back...?"_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I gave this chapter a major rehaul after some thinking: originally Toriko was supposed to go down to the Garrison and help, but Sephiroth still views her as a child, not a working partner. Why would he call her down? The next few chapters had Toriko featuring prominently, but I'm rehauling those as well for a tighter story. After all, Sephiroth can't be all his badass self if he's worrying what kind of impression he's going to make on his kid...

/\/\/\/\/\


	63. Chapter 57

Put Your Lights On

1.01.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Fifty-Seven

/\/\/\/\/\

Sephiroth resisted the urge to massage his temples. His head was aching from a combination of smells, sounds, and fatigue, but he wasn't going to let anyone know that. Everyone looked to him to be strong and if he looked like he was trooping right on, then the medics and civilian doctors would do the same, so as not to look as if they were any less than he. Whatever. Some kind of bullshit like that. It was also a point of pride for him not to show any weakness. If he ignored it enough, maybe it would go away.

"Sir, we need you at the western wall," an MP said, jogging up to him. "We've got a part that looks about to collapse."

Sephiroth nodded briskly and followed the MP to where a ponderously tilting part of the wall looked in danger of falling. There were several SOLDIERS already there supporting it, and for a moment Sephiroth wondered why they didn't just let the thing fall.

"We'd let it drop," the MP said to him. "But there's a gas main right under it, so..."

"I understand," Sephiroth said, suppressing the urge to yawn. Lord, it had been much too long since he'd exerted himself like this. Being in peak physical shape wasn't a problem, but magical prowess was a matter of mental flexibility and bureaucracy did anything but promote that; he was pretty sure there were literal muscles in his head that were now aching from sudden use. Sephiroth swore as soon as he got home and had a nice hot shower, he was going to sleep like the dead.

_"All in good time," _Sephiroth thought, reaching into his pocket and taking out an Ice materia. _"All in good time..."_

"Ice3," he called, and towering stalagmites of ice surged up from the ground to freeze the section of wall in place. The SOLDIERS stepped back with a sigh of relief, rubbing arms and shoulders as they dispersed: good men always looked for ways to make themselves useful.

"Sir," another MP jogged up to him. "The Regen-mist in the infirmary's failing and we can't find any medics who can put it back up..."

Sephiroth was tempted to say he didn't know how to do such a thing, anything for a moment to sit down and breathe, but his sense of pride refused to admit to a thing as weak as that, so with a brisk nod he followed the second MP back to the infirmary-cum-mess-hall, the only place large enough and still standing to hold the wounded and dead. It smelled like blood and bile in there, and Sephiroth had to breathe through his mouth to stop from vomiting.

_"There was a time when I was used to this smell... City life's made me useless."_

A reddish haze clung over the body of everyone in the infirmary: a part of that was blood, but most of it was due to the large area-cast of Regen that took several mages to set up, but only one to maintain. The cast was invaluable when it came to healing large numbers of victims like this: casting Cure on each soldier rapidly tired the medics, whereas the gradually healing effects of Regen allowed them time to rest, tend to something else, or swig an Ether to replenish their concentration. However, there was a catch: the cast had to be renewed every ten minutes. And it had be renewed just a split second after fading, while the magical network that held it was still there—a full second or two seconds later, the network vanished and the whole thing would have to be set up again. Due to the reflexes required, SOLDIERS were generally the ones who maintained the area-cast.

Sephiroth took a deep breath, building the shape of the Regen spell in his mind as he exchanged his Ice materia for a Restore. To the common layman, all materia looked the same: the difference between them was in the amount of glow they emitted (more glow meant more power) and the way they felt in one's mind. Ice, of course, felt cold and Restore eased Sephiroth's headache just enough for him to fully concentrate on the spell.

"Regen," he murmured, and red mist flowed from his hands to replenish the flickering haze over the infirmary. As if it were his own energy leaving—which it was, in a way—Sephiroth suddenly felt drained and he shut his eyes, quietly fighting to stay on his feet.

_"If I could just sit down for a few minutes, I'd feel a whole lot better..."_

"Sir?"

_"&! I swear to God, if it's another fucking MP with..." _ Throttling his mental explosion, Sephiroth turned and sighed in relief when he saw Zenri, a member of the Seventh, looking at him in concern.

"Sit down," Zenri said, his purple eyes narrowing. "You don't look so good."

"As the doctor orders," Sephiroth said gratefully, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor.

Zenri reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of bright green potion. "Have an Ether," he said, kneeling by Sephiroth. "You look like you need it."

"I hate this stuff," Sephiroth said, nonetheless taking the bottle and breaking the top off; any battle-use potion was made to snap off easily, so there would be a minimum of fuss when it came to using them in combat. "It burns."

"Don't chug it, then," Zenri said, but it was too late. With a grimace, Sephiroth tossed back the entire bottle and thumped his chest, coughing. The acrid smell of the Ether burned its way into his sinuses, chasing the dull headache away in a burst of medicinal vapors. Sephiroth blinked several times and Zenri studied him for a moment before saying, "Now you look unnaturally perky."

"Ethers do that to me," Sephiroth said, holding up the bottle and eyeing it in amusement. "Hehe…"

Zenri chuckled. His skin was coal-black and his teeth were almost shockingly white as he smiled, shaking his head. "I forgot about that," he said. "How giggly you get on those."

"I was giggly when I was seventeen," Sephiroth protested mildly. "I'm twenty-nine now. Doesn't that merit a sinister chuckle?"

"Nah," Zenri said, grinning. "You'll never look sinister to me."

Oddly enough, Sephiroth found that comforting.

"Get up," Zenri said. "I think I found something interesting."

"Oh?" Sephiroth rose to his feet, dusting off his pants. "Like what?"

"Well... You'll see."

The two of them threaded their way through the makeshift pallets of the dead and dying, avoiding puddles of blood and gore. Sephiroth had to admire Zenri's stoicism in the face of all this suffering, though Sephiroth was showing no more than he. Zenri was a medic, and they usually went one of two ways. Either they became grossly involved in their patient's process or they just stopped caring, treating as many as they could without investing themselves emotionally. Zenri had found a happy medium between the two, which made him effective but no doubt slightly ill in an atmosphere of rank suffering such as this one.

"Here we go," Zenri said, stopping at one of the bodies. He was wearing a private's blues, his face fixed in a mask of horror: at first Sephiroth assumed he'd died seeing the explosion, which would explain the look on his face, but a second later he noticed that the man's legs were crushed from the waist down. The pallet the corpse lay on was soaked with blood and stank of bile.

"Gruesome," Sephiroth commented.

"Yeah," Zenri agreed. "But that's the most interesting thing. His uniform says 'Zatcharoff', yet..."

"Zatcharoff's over there..." Sephiroth murmured, his eyes flicking to a white-coated medic across the hall who was not wearing pants. He'd meant to ask about that for a few hours, but had always been sidetracked. Now here was the answer to that question. "Interesting. This must be our bomber."

Zenri nodded. "That's what I thought too, but I wanted to run it by you."

"Thanks," Sephiroth said, and kneeled by the body. "He's pretty beat up. Do you think you can revive him?"

Zenri knelt by the corpse and looked over it with practiced, expert eyes. "It's gonna be a trick to keep him from dying as soon as I bring him back. He'll bleed out too much, if he hasn't lost enough blood already..."

"Cauterize his wounds," Sephiroth said. "We'll cut off his legs with a heated Buster Sword."

Zenri made a face. "It probably would work," he admitted reluctantly. "I'll find a sword."

Sephiroth took the dead man's body outside: it wouldn't do anybody any good to see what he and Zenri were about to do to it, and the medics had enough on their hands without a screaming upper body—because after the cauterization, that would be all that was left of the man—distracting them from their work. After a moment's thought, Sephiroth put up a box of Silence spells around him and the body to muffle the spiritual "sound" of magic and the physical one of pain. Zenri joined him in a moment, carrying a broad-bladed Buster Sword easily on one shoulder. In his free hand, he held a Fire materia.

"Will you do the honors, sir?" Zenri said, holding the Fire materia out to him.

"With pleasure," Sephiroth said, taking the hot little orb and concentrating.

The theory was simple. In order to do cauterization of a large body part like a leg, a suitably large object had to be heated in order to seal the wound. To save time in the field, a sword would be heated by fire until it was red-hot, and then used to simultaneously amputate and seal the injury. However, getting the sword that hot could be a problem.

"_Most people think that magic is just murmuring words and imagining the result," _Sephiroth thought to himself, a little disgruntled. _"That works well enough for basic use—Fire, Fire2, Fire3—but for advanced applications like steadily heating a sword and creating spell-nets, you have to actively think about what you want to accomplish as you're accomplishing it. Concentrating on the fly like that is what stops most people from using materia this way."_

He steadied his concentration as it began to waver, reflecting in the guttering flame on the Buster Sword. Every time he felt the fire going weak, he had to build it up with more MP. Howver, feeding MP was a mindless activity, and with a spell like Water, which didn't need constant maintenance, it was too easy for someone to pour all their spirit essence into one spell. Seconds ticked by and Sephiroth was becoming steadily more and more aware of his draining energy.

"Done," he said, releasing the spell. By now, the Buster Sword was glowing the color of cherries. Zenri, who'd been holding the sword the entire time, wiped his dark forehead free of sweat and blinked it out of his eyes.

"Here we go," Zenri said, approaching the dead body and holding the glowing sword. With a grunt he brought it down on the dead man's waist, and there was a crunching hiss as the Buster Sword cut through the cadaver like butter. Zenri held the blade there for a few seconds to make sure the wound was completely sealed, and the scent of burning flesh filled the air.

It was then that Sephiroth's stomach unfortunately gave a very loud growl. Zenri looked at him, startled.

"I'm just hungry," he said peevishly. "Not a cannibal."

"That'd be some _weird_ eating," Zenri agreed. Yanking the sword out of the cadaver, he thrust the blade into the earth to cool and said, "Okay, here we go. I hope this works," he said, pulling a Revive materia from his pocket and taking a deep breath. "You realize he might've lost too much blood already, and he might not come back? And that if he does, he's gonna die in horrible agony?"

"Good," Sephiroth said. "He can go like everybody else."

Zenri chuckled and cast the spell. In a moment the man was coughing and gasping for air. Sephiroth rose to his feet and looked down at the man.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Sephiroth said quietly, and the man's eyes snapped open. Sephiroth waited until the man had turned to see him to say, "How long you stay here is completely up to me."

The man gasped in a long, shuddering inhalation, his eyes going so wide that he looked like a startled horse. He moved jerkily, trying to get away, and Sephiroth deliberately planted his foot on his chest.

"Did I say you could move?" He asked quietly.

"Guh..." The man choked, coughing up blood and tears. He began to struggle weakly under Sephiroth's foot. "Ah...grraahh..."

"Zenri, you're dismissed," Sephiroth said, glancing at his dark-skinned subordinate. "This won't take long."

"Yes, sir," Zenri said with a salute and left. Sephiroth was glad he'd done so without argument. His interrogation techniques were rather...unusual.

Sephiroth looked down at the dying man, who had finally seemed to realize that his legs weren't flailing with his body; craning his head up, the man stared at the end of his truncated torso and started screaming, his legless body thrashing like a worm. Sephiroth winced at the shrill sound, glad he'd put up Silence barriers—purple lights flickered in the air as the shriek hit the walls and was absorbed, silenced or at the very least muffled.

_"Damn," _Sephiroth realized as he looked down at the man. _"He's not going to be able to concentrate on anything but his legs right now..."_

He only had a few minutes before the man would die, anyway. Taking a deep breath, Sephiroth sunk his mental hands into the man's mind, peripherally noticing as the man's shriek broke off in a wet gurgle. Sephiroth saw him go rigid with the suddenness of pain could not be described, but only in a vague sort of way. There were more important things at hand. Ruthlessly he kneaded the man's brain like a lump of dough, wringing every scrap of information he could from the man's dying mind. Memories were not chronological things; instead, they were strings of similarities, and if one pursued the right path, one could find anything...

"_This man started thinking about his legs, but then he thought about how he got here and who sent him... He's cursing them right now and concentrating on their faces." _

Sephiroth filed that information away for later purposes. The man—Gangson—was indeed from AVALANCHE, and from the split-off faction that Tseng had told him about. He'd been assigned to bomb the Garrison in order to destroy the freaks... SOLDIERS, in other words.

_"Ha! They seem to think that 'freak' implies bioengineering: obviously they've never met Hojo."_

The casualties would have been higher if Gangson had placed the bomb in the barracks instead of the locker rooms, but the lockers were right in the middle of the Garrison. What better for a showy violent gesture than a big hole in the middle of Midgar's toughest base?

_"The other Garrisons will need to be informed of this... So far AVALANCHE has only worked in Midgar, but you never know when they could branch out."_

Sephiroth continued to knead the man's mind, sharp inquisitive fingers making the man gasp wordlessly in pain.

_"A pity he doesn't know how or where AVALANCHE meets; he's so low on the terrorist hierarchy that he receives his orders by courier. He has no idea who the leaders are or even where most of the people are based. He doesn't even know of any attacks in the future."_

The man was dying now. Sephiroth could feel it in the way his memory channels became harder and harder to follow, compressing with the inevitability of death. He withdrew, and the man gave a last convulsive shudder and fell limp, his nerves twitching slightly.

_"Well, that's that," _Sephiroth thought, rising to his feet. _"Now...where do we go from here?"_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Sephiroth is rather inhuman in this chapter. I mean, he orders a guy to chop off Gangson's legs and then proceeds to mindrape him just before (or until; depends how you want to look at it) he dies. This is done on purpose, because although this story is largely told from Sephiroth (and Toriko's viewpoint) I must stress that they are not nice people. Especially Sephiroth, though he's learning. After all, Toriko's not around to make this a 'learning experience', right?

/\/\/\/\/\


	64. Chapter 58

Put Your Lights On

1.10.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Fifty-Eight

/\/\/\/\/\

Reno jumped slightly as his phone vibrated in his jacket, tickling his chest. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the phone and flipped it open. "S'Reno," he said by way of greeting.

"Tseng. How are things on your end?"

"Fine," Reno said, glancing at the four poker players. By this time, all of them had some sort of makeup on her face, even Mrs. Tuesti. Toriko seemed to be having the worst time of it; Reno couldn't see what she looked like, but nearly every round someone leaned over and added something to her cheeks. "They're playing poker."

"Poker...?" Reno could almost see Tseng looking puzzled, then shaking his head as he moved onto other business. "The General wants her home now."

"Okay, no prob," Reno said, sitting up. Cait Sith yawped in indignation as the movement dumped him onto the couch; Reno sat up and patted the robot kitty on the head. "See ya."

Tseng hung up without preamble. Reno looked at the phone for a moment, frowning. He had to be tense about something if he was that abrupt...

_"We've probably been set on finding out who bombed the Garrison... Damn. Shin-Ra needs more than one Investigative Sector."_

"Time to go home, kiddo," Reno said, snapping his phone shut and putting it back in his pocket.

"Okay," Toriko said, getting to her feet. Reno suppressed the urge to jump when he saw her face covered with pink swirls, mint-green whiskers, and blue exclamation points. "Just let me wash my face."

"Yeah," Reno said, staring. "You go do that."

"Hee hee hee," Meryl Tuesti giggled. She was better off—he could still see skin on her face. "Your eyes popped out of your head."

Reno patted his pockets, mock-panicking. "Oh crap, where'd they go?"

Toriko chuckled and went to wash off her face. During the course of the poker game, Reno had had to revise his opinion of her. He'd thought she was just a mean little biotch, but apparently the meanness was selective, which made Reno remember that she'd hated him on sight.

_"Something about us following orders other than her dad's... I know we get hired out to other departments or executives, but why would she have a problem with that?"_

He wanted to ask Toriko, but had the feeling he'd be rebuffed with more meanness. Still, she looked pleasant enough when she came back out.

"Do you really have to go?" Meryl asked, getting up and pouting. "We had so much fun!"

"We did," Toriko said sincerely. "But we can do it again another day."

"Hopefully when nothing explodes," Meryl quipped. As Toriko chuckled and nodded, Meryl tilted her head and suddenly threw herself on Toriko, flinging her arms around her in a hug. The green-eyed girl managed a squeak before Meryl picked her up and swung her from side to side. After about a second of swinging, Meryl let Toriko go.

"Have a safe ride home," Meryl said brightly as Toriko stumbled a little, obviously rattled.

"Uh...yes..." Toriko said, blinking. Looking at Naomi, she said, "Thank you for having me over, Mrs. Tuesti, Rose."

"No problem," Rose said airily, and Naomi smiled with a "Anytime, dear."

Reno jerked his head at the door. "Hate to cut this short, but..."

"I know," Toriko said in a surprisingly mild voice. She actually smiled at him as they left the Tuesti's apartment, though as soon as Reno closed the door behind them she turned on him with a scowl. "Did Tseng say anything about my father?"

"Huh?" Reno blinked at her.

"Did Tseng say anything about my father?" She asked, her teeth gritted.

"No..." Reno frowned. "How'd you know I was talking to Tseng anyway."

"I could hear you," she said.

"Sharp ears."

She grunted in acknowledgement. "Well?"

"He didn't say anything," Reno said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Wouldn't you have _heard_ that too?"

She glared at him and to his surprise, actually looked a little scary doing it. Without a word she stalked down the hall.

"Toriko, car's this way," Reno said, jerking his thumb in the opposite direction.

Wordlessly she spun around and stalked the other way. Reno rolled his eyes and followed her.

The ride home was silent and tense, at least on Toriko's part. She stared fixedly out the window, not looking at Reno as he drove from the Tuesti's apartment to hers, two sectors away. He caught her reflection in the tinted window as the highway lights flashed by, orange fluorescence lighting the discontent curves of her face.

_"I know she doesn't like Turks, but this is ridiculous... Still, if she wants to be a piss-face the whole way home, it's not my problem. At least she's not sniping at me."_

The ride was quick and uneventful, though Reno noticed Toriko's expression becoming stormier as they neared the apartment. Her change in moue made him wonder if her annoyance was purely Turk-based.

_"She's not... NOT looking forward to seeing her dad, is she? I mean, it seems like they like each other, but the General does have something of a temper... Dear god, does he hit her? Is that why she looks so pissed?"_

"You okay?" He asked, glancing at her.

"Fine," she snapped, and then paused for a moment, her eyes flickering. Reno pretended not to notice their glow; it occurred to him then that he had a pretty good idea of why she hated the Turks.

_"After all, you don't get glowing eyes until you've spent time with the white-coats... And considering she's the General's kid, probably that means Hojo. At some point in time, Turks must've given her to him._

_"Shit, that's why the General went public with her. After all, if she goes missing now the whole goddamn world knows about it. Smooth, sir... Though what's to stop someone from just stealing her back?_

_"...us, of course. Great, I'm going to be a chaperone for the rest of my freakin' career."_

"You sure Tseng didn't say anything about my father?" She asked in a quieter, softer tone.

Reno spared her a glance as he switched lanes, getting off the highway. "Sorry, kid, not a word. Don't worry, I'm sure he's fine."

"Mm." Toriko grunted tonelessly, and Reno heard a soft 'thok' noise as she leaned her head against the glass.

"Really worried about him, huh?" Reno asked sympathetically.

She shook her head. "I know he can take care of himself. It's just that..." She half-closed her eyes, looking down at the seat. In a voice no more than a whisper, she said, "Why didn't he call me?"

"You have a PHS?" Reno asked.

"No, but—"

"There you go," Reno said bracingly. "Don't worry so much. Besides, he probably forgot—"

"He forgot about me?" Toriko asked no one in particular.

"No," Reno said at once. "Well, not exac—uh..."

_"I mean, it's possible. She hasn't been with him that long."_

Reno fell into flustered silence. It was obvious Toriko was really bothered by being noncom with her dad, and something in Reno squirmed at that. He remembered a couple times during missions when he'd lost contact with his team members.

_"You try not to worry, but you can't help it... You just don't know what's going on. You try to be optimistic, but there's a very real chance you're just not going to see that person again, or that they might not see you. Shit happens, after all."_

Reno parked on the street outside the apartment complex; standard procedure, it was easier for getaway purposes. He got out of the car and heard Toriko do the same.

"What are you doing?" She asked, looking at him with a light frown.

"I'm walking you up," he said.

"I don't need to be walked up," she said quietly.

"Consider it extra," Reno said, shrugging.

She looked at him for a moment before sighing and turning around. "As you like."

She didn't want him there, that was clear, so Reno followed a couple steps behind as she swiped into the building with her keycard and headed for the stairwell.

"There's an elevator," Reno said, jerking his head at it.

"I don't like elevators," she replied, putting her hand on the door of the stairwell.

"You live on the tenth floor, though. You telling me you walk it every time?"

She nodded. "It's better for you anyway."

Reno sighed and walked up to her. "Whatever."

The stairway was nothing special, looking almost like its bleak concrete cousins in the slums; apparently the people who lived in this posh building were too rich to walk. Toriko, however, walked steadily up, moving quickly up the stairs, and despite his longer legs Reno was a little winded when they arrived on the tenth floor. Toriko seemed fine.

_"Guess she really does do this every day..."_

Reno followed Toriko to her apartment, the only one on the floor. Reaching into her dress pocket, Toriko unlocked the door and stepped in, standing off to the side and bowing from the waist; Reno wondered if he should take off his shoes as he stepped in and nodded to the General, who was sitting on the couch and looking more tired than Reno could ever remember seeing him.

_"Which isn't saying much... His expression never changes."_

"Welcome home, Father," Toriko said, straightening. "How was work?"

"Not good," he said. He was leaning deep into the cushions, his arms flung out on the back as he lay with eyes closed, mouth slightly open. "Could you make me some coffee?"

"Of course, Father." Toriko said, and something in her tone made Reno glance at her. "Anything you like. Milk? Sugar? Artificial sweetener?"

Her voice had hardened on the last two words. Reno stared at her and Sephiroth opened his eyes, turning to look at her.

"Is there a problem, Tori?" Sephiroth asked in a very even tone of voice.

"Not if you don't say so," Toriko said just a little too sweetly.

_"Shit," _Reno thought with a shudder. "_Does the General realize she's giving him 'tude? I kinda want to see what happens when he does..."_

Sephiroth looked at Toriko for a long time, not saying anything. Toriko just smiled. Reno, though he was not caught between their gazes, began to fidget.

"Forget the coffee," the General said finally, shifting on the couch. "Come here. I want to see you."

Toriko walked over and sat next to him on the couch, her expression unreadable.

"How was your day?" He asked, sounding for all the world just like a regular dad.

"Fine," Toriko said, her tone sweet but unyielding.

"Did you have fun with the Tuestis?" Sephiroth asked patiently.

"Yes, I did," she said, and her tone seemed inexplicably sharp.

"What did you do?"

"This and that."

_"She's pulling the passive-aggressive bullshit!" _Reno thought, suppressing the urge to laugh. _"Apparently you're never too young to learn."_

From what Reno could recall from his days as a child, two things happened after the parents recognized this tactic. Either they sighed and gave up, or...

"Tori, why are you mad at me?"

"I'm not mad, Father," Toriko said, still oh-so-fakely-sweet. "Why don't you go to sleep? I'm sure you've had a long, tiring day, and—"

Sephiroth slapped her. It wasn't a hard slap, especially considering what a First-Class SOLDIER was capable of doing, but it was enough to jerk Toriko's head ninety degrees to the right. Reno took a step forward, his veins surging with adrenaline.

_"That sonnova—!"_

"I have," Sephiroth said evenly as Toriko blinked tears from her eyes, her face going completely still. His face was still as well, though Reno recognized his mask as covering anger, not hurt. "So I'm not in the mood for bullshit. Answer the question, Toriko."

Toriko turned to look at him. Her back was to Reno now, so he couldn't see her face, but he could hear the tightness in her voice as she said, "Why? Do you care?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Sephiroth asked bitingly.

"Silence for the past ten hours might have something to do with it."

"I was busy."

"Of course," Toriko said in faintly bitter tones, and Reno saw Sephiroth's hand twitch. "I don't fault you for being busy, Father. It would, however, have been nice to know to know that you were fine from _you_ rather than an intermediary."

"I'm sorry I didn't call," Sephiroth said, though he sounded anything but sincere. "I didn't think it would worry you."

"You didn't think...?" Toriko repeated deliberately, inflecting her tone ever so slightly. Reno winced as the General's eyes hardened to emerald cabochons.

"No," he said finally. "I didn't."

They glared (or Reno assumed Toriko was glaring; he still couldn't see her face) at each other long enough for Reno to wish he'd just let Toriko walk up alone. The ocular deathmatch stopped when Sephiroth sighed deeply and reached up, touching the cheek he'd slapped.

"I didn't mean it," he said quietly.

"I know," Toriko murmured, and her voice was soft and peaceful. "I'm not angry."

Reno looked up at the ceiling, pretending not to notice as the General wrapped his arms around his daughter and hugged her, stroking her hair. He was embarrassed and not a little confused. So it was over, just like that?

"I'll make you some coffee," Toriko said, getting to her feet. "You've had a long day."

"I have," Sephiroth agreed. "But tell me about yours." He turned, seeming to notice Reno for the first time. "You can go."

"It was nice," Toriko said as Reno bobbed his head and quickly left the apartment. "We went shopping and—"

_"Too fucking weird," _Reno thought as he shut the door behind him. _"Don't know why, but the whole thing was just weird... Hope he doesn't hit her like that often. He could break her neck without meaning to, and besides, you just don't hit your kids..."_

Reno rubbed the tattoo on his right cheek, where a full can of beer had cracked him in the face, laying the skin open to the bone. The scar was hidden along the curving upper edge of the tat, invisible unless he tanned.

_"Yeah, you don't hit your kids," _Reno thought through the door, a slow burn building in his chest. Sticking his hands in his pockets, Reno walked down the hall, thinking, _"You can surprise me once, but you don't hit your kids around me... Ever."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

And that's the real reason Reno is the babysitter.

About Reno's tattoos; I always had the impression they were scars, because they looked so strikingly odd that I figured they had to be knife cuts or something. AC showed them to be tats, however, so I started wondering why those right there? Eventually I recalled a story from a friend of mine during high school, who had a scar on her eyebrow where her dad had thrown a can of beer at her face... Yikes. But suitable. A salute to someone who meant a lot but became too much to handle. Endless drama is killing.

I hope the subcontext in the Sephiroth/Toriko fight came out. Reno's hearing them snapping about why he didn't call, but it's really about why Sephiroth didn't talk to Tori mentally. The words are essentially the same, which is why I put this chapter from Reno's viewpoint. Kill two birds with one stone, you know. The glaring match is what happens during the round of mental apologizing that has them making up in the real world, though hopefully this is something you've inferred. If you have, yay! If not, this means I must work on my skills of implying.

/\/\/\/\/\


	65. Chapter 59

Put Your Lights On

1.12.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Fifty-Nine

/\/\/\/\/\

It was Toriko's understanding that children were normally accompanied to their first day of school by an anxious, hovering parent. Sephiroth was at work, however, and since he was neither anxious nor hovering, they hadn't seen fit for him to go in late and drive her to a place that within walking distance of their home. Toriko didn't mind this, or least she hadn't at the time of the decision-making. Now, as she neared the walled-off schoolyard and heard the sounds of children her age and older, her stomach knotted in fear. Toriko remembered when she'd last tried to play with children her own age. Even now it was hard to say what had hurt more, the rocks or the jeers.

_"But that was when I was the daughter of a prostitute... Now I am the daughter of a hero, and maybe things will be different."_

Toriko exhaled gustily and stepped in through the gates of Waverly Academy, the exclusive private school that only those with money and power could send their children to. Rufus had gone there and the Tuesti children were attending, so naturally Toriko—being the only daughter of the great General Sephiroth—had to go there as well. Toriko might have protested more (after all, she detested her age group with a vehemence that bordered on hate) if not for the fact that Meryl would be going to Waverly too.

"I'm sure we'll be in at least one class together," Meryl had said earnestly. "And won't it be fun, passing notes and gossiping about stupid people... And pranking the teacher?"

"Pranking the..." Toriko had been aghast. "I couldn't do that!"

"Yes you could," Meryl had said with a giggle. "It's tons of fun, and you know what the best part is? They can't touch us because our daddies will kick their butts."

Ah, immunity. What a lovely, lovely feeling. Toriko still didn't think she'd prank a teacher—it was disrespectful and somehow fundamentally disturbing—but it was nice to know that even within the confines of Waverly's walls, her father would still be with her. He was still with her now, his mind brushing absently against hers as he worked in his office. His boredom was soporific, so Toriko did not bother him; just the idea of contact made her sleepy right now.

_"And I should be awake for my first day of school..."_

The Waverly uniform for girls was a knee-length pencil skirt, a white blouse, and a floppy black tie that Toriko wore in a simple square knot around her neck; a stickpin with the Waverly crest kept it pinned to her shirt. Waverly girls also wore white stockings and patent leather loafers, which made Toriko vaguely uncomfortable. The stockings were so tight and thin on her legs that she left like she was walking half-naked and she had to stop multiple times to pull them up; the damn things just kept sliding down her legs. The loafers were comfortable, but fragile-feeling: Toriko got the impression that if she ran, they'd fall off her feet.

_"Maybe I'll ask Father if I can get laced shoes... Or maybe even wear my boots."_

She was already wearing her arm-stockings. Elaine had given her a pair of gloves, but they made Toriko's hands itch and besides, Toriko liked being able to actually feel the things she was touching. The black half-gloves were definitely not regulation, and Toriko hoped no one would bother her about them.

_"Because I'm not taking them off for anything... The double zero tattoos would be too hard to explain."_

She looked around, taking a few minutes to familiarize herself with the surroundings. It was her first day of school, but everyone else had been coming since the beginning of September. Groups of friends were clustered together, chatting excitedly or groaning as they went in through the gates: Toriko stepped aside to let a particularly large clump of people pass, and amused herself by watching the thoroughfare. Although everyone was in uniform, Toriko spotted several cliques within the first few seconds, recognizable by the way they wore their scarves or stickpins, or by subtle bits of jewelry that could be easily concealed by hair or shirt. Her lip curled in distaste as she picked up strains of gossip and slander.

"Eew, it's _her._ Why is she here again?"

"I wish she'd just die."

"Bitch."

The most amusing thing was that this talk was coming from girls scarcely older than Toriko, and the snotty pseudo-vindictiveness in their voices made Toriko want to laugh. Of course, the boys were no better.

"Hey, did you hear what happened last weekend? Liza got totally plastered at this party, right? And..."

"Ohh, no way!"

"Score for Jimmy boy!"

_"Da-Chao help me,"_ Toriko thought with mixed consternation and hilarity. _"I am absolutely inundated with idiots! Weak idiots, hopefully, but..."_

"TORY!"

How she never saw Meryl coming, Toriko never knew. The younger Tuesti girl hit her from the side with all the force of a guided missile and took her off guard so badly that Toriko barely had time to go "Oh!" before she was banged into the ground. Meryl immediately jumped to her feet and seized Toriko's wrist, yanking her back up.

"Oh my god, are you okay!" Meryl exclaimed, her eyes round with worry. "I'm sooo sorry, I didn't think I'd knock you over!"

"Exuberant as ever, I see," Toriko commented, amused. "And don't worry," she said, patting Meryl on the shoulder. "I've taken harder hits."

Which was true. She'd been training with Nanashi this morning and the _kunoichi_ had socked her roundly in the face when Toriko had been least expecting it. She'd gotten a right earful about "sloppy guarding" to accompany her ringing head, and no apology either.

"What, you play rugby with your dad or something?" Meryl asked, tilting her head.

"What's rugby?"

"It's—" Meryl started to say, but then Rose wafted over. Seriously, wafted. In an older woman, such an exaggerated hip-swaying walk would have been called a sashay, but to Toriko it seemed as if Rose were gliding over the ground, suffused with all the airiness of an upper-class girl.

"Hello, Toriko," Rose said with a smile and a note of practiced honey in her voice, and Toriko wryly realized that Rose was trying to draw attention to the fact that the two of them were standing together. No doubt the gossipers would have picked this up. "It's been a while," Rose said, laying yet another socially interesting point in the air. "How've you been?"

"Good," Toriko said. She noticed Rose was wearing a very sparkly ring on her left middle finger, and wondered if that was by choice or as the mark of some selective clique.

_"If I had a clique, what would our identifying mark be? Double zeroes on the hands? Hehe... Maybe not."_

"How are your parents?" Toriko asked, directing the question both at Meryl and Rose.

"The same," Meryl said, shrugging. "Dad's at work and Mom's bored."

"And your father?" Rose asked, her eyes bright with interest.

"The same as well," Toriko said, deciding discretion was the better part of honor.

"Rose!" Somebody called, and Toriko glanced into the throng of students to see a handsome blonde boy waving cockily at them. Rose waved back with a girlish flirt of her fingers.

"That's her boyfriend," Meryl said, rolling her eyes on the last word. "Come on, Tory, let's find out where our classes are."

"Okay," Toriko said, and the two of them set off into the building proper. Toriko couldn't help but marvel at Waverly; it was like someone had yanked a giant country estate from a hundred years past and plunked it into the middle of Midgar, surrounding it with a suitable yard of verdant grass and large trees. The fact it was made completely of joined blocks of stone was interesting, because Toriko knew concrete was probably much cheaper.

_"The things people do for appearance," _Toriko thought with amusement.

"This way," Meryl said, pointing down a long hall as they entered the school proper. Inside, the ceilings were low but vaulted, giving the impression of space...or catacombs. Toriko had seen pictures of such things in one of Meryl's books, which had been appropriately titled "The Hundred Most Creepiest Places In The World".

"You seem to know your way around," Toriko said as Meryl confidently walked down the long hall, her loafers slapping against the polished stone floor. "Have you been here before?"

"Yeah," Meryl said indifferently. "Rose's been going here for a while, so I'm pretty familiar with the place." She stopped suddenly and turned around, saying, "Where's your schedule?"

"Right here," Toriko said, reaching into her school bag.

"Cool. Hey, these are all in the upperclassman wing."

"Are they?"

"Yeah..." Meryl looked at her, her eyes becoming troubled. "Are you, like, freaky smart or something?"

"Well, they gave me some tests before coming here, but they didn't tell me how I did," Toriko said, perplexed. "I supposed it's possible that I might have placed into a few advanced classes."

"Calculus?" Meryl said skeptically, waving the paper. "Advanced World History? Theory of Materia Application? Even my sister doesn't take these and she's in her final year here!"

"Huh," Toriko said, blinking. She took the paper back and looked at it for a long time, not saying anything. She'd sat with Sephiroth and picked these classes with his advice, though they'd both agreed that the courses would probably be useless. Hojo was a creep, but he'd given her a very thorough education.

_"I sort of miss that book on genetic theory he always had sitting in the lab... I'd never tell Father, but that stuff was kind of fun."_

"But look, we're both taking Music," Meryl said, switching in a flash from annoyed to hopeful. "Orchestral too—that means if we do really good, we can play in the same one as Rose."

"Rose plays an instrument?" Toriko asked in surprise.

Meryl sighed and rolled her eyes again. "Violin, flute, piano, cello... And she sings too. Her grades are pot, but she's practically a shoo-in for the East Continental Orchestra."

"Wow," Toriko said. She wasn't quite sure what all of the things Meryl had said meant, but it sounded impressive. Apparently 'wow' was the right response.

"Tell me about it," Meryl said with a sigh. "It's kind of tough. You're lucky you don't have a perfect older sister."

"No," Toriko said with amusement. "I'll just always be referred to as 'the General's daughter'."

Meryl looked at her quickly, her eyes widening, and burst out laughing. Toriko was very pleased; instinctively she'd known that not many people would get the joke, but Meryl certainly would. She might not have been in advanced classes, but she definitely intelligent.

"I never thought about it that way," Meryl mused. Looking at Toriko's schedule again, "Okay, and we have lunch and PE together... So it's not that bad."

"What are you taking?" Toriko asked.

Meryl flapped her hand. "Ehh, dumb stuff. Algebra and that kind of thing."

"Algebra?"

"Solving for x?"

"Oh, that."

Meryl laughed. "Oh, that," she mimicked. "You know, I'm in a class with thirteen and fourteen-year-olds to take that."

So that meant Meryl was good at it. "Don't let them bully you into doing their homework."

Meryl laughed again. "Of course not! And if they do, you'll beat them up for me, right?"

"Only if you beat people for me too."

"Done deal!" Meryl said, and they shook hands. A bell sounded above their heads and Meryl scowled, saying, "Is it that time already?"

"Time to start class?" Toriko guessed.

"Yeah..." Meryl patted her on the shoulder, saying, "I'll see you at lunch, okay?"

"Okay," Toriko said. "Uh..."

"What?"

"You won't tackle me again, will you?"

"Aww," Meryl said, her eyes twinkling. "But that's fun!"

"It also hurts," Toriko said.

"You can tackle me," Meryl offered.

"Interesting, but no. I like my spine where it is, and I'm sure you feel the same way."

Meryl pouted for a second, and then grinned widely. "Okaaay," she said. "I'll just have to think of a brand new way to surprise you, then."

"Wait, what?" Toriko exclaimed, alarmed, and started after Meryl as the girl spun around and skipped down the hall; peripherally she was aware of people looking at Meryl strangely and/or rolling their eyes. For some reason, that made her annoyed, but Toriko brushed the feeling aside and turned around, looking for someone who could help her. It wouldn't do for her to be late for her first day of class, after all.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Thanks to Super Lizard for catching the inadvertent drug reference, in addition to the subsequent grammar lesson. I tend to use a lot of 'had's', but it's because this story's already in past tense and I need to differentiate between the actual past and the story's present...

It just occurred to me that there's a little bit of something for everyone in this fic. We have violence, adult issues, intrigue, and...gakuen drama. :buries face in hands and laughs: Admittedly the school-life arc is more for my amusement than anything else, which is why I won't be spending that much time on it. It's just enough to say that Toriko is going to school now, which says something for the passage of time. It's now been about a month and a half since Toriko's escaped, which would put this in the middle of October.

/\/\/\/\/\


	66. Chapter 60

Put Your Lights On

1.16.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Sixty

/\/\/\/\/\

Steel rang against steel as the General almost idly fought two SOLDIERS at once, ostensibly to train them in the intricacies of team combat. Dulles, the leader of the Seventh, watched him with arms folded. He didn't see a reason why the General came down at least once every two weeks to practice his swordwork. It wasn't like the General needed it, and by "exercising" in such a manner, he sowed resentment among the older SOLDIERS and the young pups who wished they could and knew they couldn't be in his shoes. It also didn't help that the General made no real effort to be liked.

_"It wouldn't take much... A 'Good job today' or 'Nice work' goes a long way, but he doesn't seem to understand that."_

The General disarmed both SOLDIERS with a single swing of his sword and sent the blades hurtling across the practice yard; bystanders ran for cover or threw themselves on the ground to dodge the spinning swords. Dulles, who was behind the General, only sighed as he saw the familiar flickers of irritation in the SOLDIERS' eyes.

"Great job, men!" He bellowed heartily, striding across the yard. "Take a hot shower, you've earned it!"

Dulles looked at the General, who was reaching over his shoulder and pulling the tie from his hair; no Junonese braid today, just a loose tail at the nape of his neck that kept most of his hair from his face. Dulles was struck by how young the General still was, for all that he was near middle-aged and had white hair.

_"Could be because his face hasn't changed since he was fourteen... Not that he's baby-faced or anything, just kinda ageless..."_

The General glanced at him, his perfect brows arching slightly. As always, it sent a jolt deep into Dulles's stomach, somewhere between his navel and groin. Even after all this time, the General's emerald eyes could still make him jump, and even sweat a little as they glimmered slightly in amusement.

"Something up, Dulles?" The General asked, retying his ponytail. He'd shed his coat at the beginning of the match, and was bare-chested save the suspenders that all SOLDIERS wore to keep their metal belts, their badges of station, from sliding or chafing. Unlike everyone else, the General wore them crossed; Dulles always wondered why, but forgot to ask.

"No, sir," Dulles said. "Nothing's up."

The General smirked. Flipping his hair over his shoulder, he asked, "How are the repairs going?"

"Pretty good, sir; Urban-D's sent down a couple of crack contractors to get the place sorted out and even updated as long as they're here."

"Excellent," the General said. "I knew I could count on Reeve."

"Reeve?" Dulles repeated before placing the name. "You know the head of Urban-D, sir?"

"I should," the General said with a wry smile. "We're only on the same executive board and our daughters go to school together."

"How _is_ Toriko doing, by the way?"

"Fine, all things considered," the General said a trifle mysteriously. "She likes school, I think."

"Any friends?"

The General looked at him a bit strangely and Dulles suppressed the urge to flush. Just because the General didn't really have anyone he'd call "friend" didn't mean his daughter was the same...

"One," the General said finally, and Dulles nearly sighed in relief. "Meryl Tuesti, Reeve's daughter." Frowning slightly, he said, "I think she's supposed to visit today... Take Toriko out to a movie or something."

"You don't know?" Dulles asked, surprised.

The General shrugged. "I trust Toriko not to get into any trouble. Besides, she has a protective detail."

_"That would make sense..." _Dulles realized. _"She's only the daughter of the most powerful swordsman in the world... I'm pretty sure someone wouldn't mind trying kidnap her for ransom, or maybe just to tick off the General."_

"Well, let's not waste any time, Dulles," the General said briskly. Nodding at the swords on Dulles's back, he said, "Have at me."

Dulles reached over his shoulders and bent forward slightly to unsheathe the long swords he had there. Slimmer than a Buster Sword and slightly curved like a Wutaiese katana, each blade from hilt to tip was still as tall as Dulles was and approximately half his weight. Only a SOLDIER could wield such blades, and Dulles was one of few who could use them simultaneously.

_"I'd better be... I made a whole damn style of the things."_

"Go easy on me," Dulles said lightly. "My thirty-fourth's birthday's coming up in a bit and I'd like to be around to enjoy it."

"You're not getting drunk again, are you?" The General asked as he took a couple of large steps backwards and brought his long sword up to the ready position.

"Not exactly," Dulles said evasively and put the crossguards of the swords on his shoulders. It was a strange-looking stance, but took speed, skill, and an ungodly amount of strength to combat, which was why Dulles only sparred with the General: using two swords made him one of the most powerful SOLDIERS around.

"Dulles, you know those hangovers last for weeks."

"We've figured out a way to get around that."

"We?"

"Me and the rest of the guys," Dulles said, meaning the Seventh. Lunging forward, he tilted his right shoulder and flung the sword, spinning-levering it so fast that even he didn't see it move: almost negligently the General parried, but Dulles saw his body shake slightly from the impact. "It was Papo's idea."

"Papo... How's he dealing with that problem?" Sephiroth asked, idly swinging his sword in a figure eight; seven feet away, Dulles leapt back to avoid being vivisected. "The one with his brother the drug addict?"

"The kid's in rehab now," Dulles said, swinging his right sword at the General; it hit the Masamune with a sharp clang, interrupting the slashing guard, and Dulles whipped his other sword off his shoulder, lunging again. "And Papo sold off his gear, except for a couple of things."

"Like what?" The General asked, whipping his sword around and hitting both of Dulles's blades at once: Dulles leapt back and swung into the second stance, his side facing his opponent while both swords were upraised and poised for action. The General tapped the flat of his blade against his shoulder, seemingly bored.

"A hooka."

The General blinked and didn't say anything for a long time. Dulles recognized the subtle signs of incomprehension and said, "Not a hooker, a hooka. It's like a... Do you know what a bong is?"

Blink. Stare.

Dulles chuckled, not quite sure how to explain. "It's, well... Anyway, Papo has this thing... It's like a long-necked bottle with hoses coming out of it..."

One silvery brow went up.

"Anyway, you're supposed to smoke out of it."

"..." The General tapped his shoulder with the dull side of his sword, putting his hand on his waist. Though his face was composed, Dulles could just feel perplexity and not a little impatience radiating out from him.

"It turns out that you can smoke alcohol," Dulles said, leaping forward to attack. He never swung both blades at once; that was just showy and left the body open for attack, as every SOLDIER learned when he first began training with a Buster Sword. Dulles kept one of his long blades close while lunging at Sephiroth with the other, twisting the sword in midair to change a neck-cut to a downward torso strike.

Sephiroth ducked and parried at the same time, his Masamune braced over his neck and shoulder. Such a move would have killed a lesser man, since necks weren't exactly the strongest part of the body. Sephiroth, however, had his own peculiar style that capitalized on his strength and endurance, and what were supposed to be the wrong sword moves were right for him, and not only that—they were devastatingly effective. Dulles jerked back, stumbling off-balance as Sephiroth repelled his sword with a quick flex of his arm and swung his seven-foot blade straight at Dulles's body.

But that was what the second sword was for, and the Masamune rang a metallic note of consternation as it hit steel and not flesh. Dulles slammed one foot into the ground behind him and swung his right sword forward in a huge downward arc. Sephiroth waited, and then sidestepped before Dulles could hit him. It was an insulting maneuver with its simplicity, but undeniably effective.

"How do you smoke alcohol?" Sephiroth wondered, drawing his sword back for a lunge.

Dulles leapt back, instinctively knowing he wouldn't be able to evade: pulling his swords up to block, he said, "Well, if you come to the party, I'll show you."

Sephiroth chuckled and lunged, and too late Dulles realized that his blade was in his right hand, not his left; because of the way Sephiroth was standing, the simple switch gave him two more feet of reach, and Dulles grunted as the Masamune threaded between the hilts of his swords to pierce him through the shoulder. It was times like these when Dulles wished the General used practice weapons.

"_But there's not a practice weapon out there that could live up to the abuse he puts that sword through..."_

Dulles stumbled and the General was there, catching him with a hand on his back as shock made Dulles's knees go weak. The older SOLDIER kneeled on the ground, swearing under his breath as he laboriously lowered his left sword, but not his right.

"_Moving around with a sword in me will just make the wound worse."_

"Sorry," the General said, helping him kneel on the ground. Dulles heard younger SOLDIERS and some of the observers yelling for a medic, and breathed a sigh of relief when Sephiroth pulled a Restore Materia out of his pocket. "Stay still."

"Yessir," Dulles said, though what he really wanted to say was, "I know, I know. We've done this before."

"Hmm," the General murmured, studying the wound. "There's about four feet sticking out from your back."

"I gathered," Dulles said through gritted teeth, seeing a foot of blade and the two-foot hilt in front of him. During their sparring matches, the General always managed to stab some part of him and though Dulles was expecting it, he never got used to it.

"Why should I get used to it, damn it? Am I a SOLDIER or am I not?" 

"On three," the General said, and his face was lit up in the white-green glow of Cure magic, the spell pooling into his palm. Running the magic over the bloodied end of the Masamune, the General gripped the hilt of his sword and said, "One, two—"

"Motherf—!" Dulles bellowed as the General pulled his sword smoothly out of his shoulder, the smeared Cure spell sliding directly into the wound. The explosive pain in his chest was soon replaced by the near numbness of relief, and Dulles sighed heavily, gingerly touching his just-healed shoulder. "You're getting better at that."

"The result of practice," Sephiroth said, and Dulles glanced up at him; was it his imagination, or had he sounded just a little apologetic then? Dulles lowered his right sword, which had still been in the air, as the General held a hand out to him. "Let's go to the infirmary and make sure I didn't screw anything up."

"You never have before," Dulles said, pushing himself to his feet.

"Let's not take chances."

A few minutes later the two of them were sitting in the infirmary. The doctor had come and gone, but he hadn't found anything off about Dulles's healing; then again, it hadn't been the first time he'd seen Sephiroth's magic at work, and there was never any fault with the General's materia application. But at the General's urging, the doctor had taken an X-ray of Dulles's shoulder and a multi-Sense spell to make sure nothing was damaged, and the two of them were waiting for the results.

"So?" Dulles asked, looking at him. He was sitting on the edge of the table, his shirt lying in a pile behind him: the place where Sephiroth had stabbed him showed new skin, pink-white like a baby's cheek. The doctor had looked at it and poked at it (filling the room with a second "Motherf—!" of pain) and finally had said not to move the shoulder for a few days; give the healed muscles time to settle, you know?

The General, who was standing off in a corner and once again in his leather coat, turned and looked at him. "So what?"

Dulles laced his hands together. "So do you want me to show you how to smoke alcohol?"

Sephiroth shook his head. "You know I'm not one for drinking."

"But this is without hangovers," Dulles said persuasively. "You're inhaling alcohol fumes, not drinking the stuff, so your liver never has to not process anything in the first place."

"Which neatly skips over the hangover...but no."

"What are you, scared?"

Sephiroth turned around, a flicker of a smile on his face. "Why, Benjamin Dulles," he said in a purely amused tone of voice, folding his arms across his chest. "I think that you're trying to get me drunk."

"The boys have a bet," Dulles agreed, nodding. "There's about fifty gil on whether you're a funny drunk, a sleeper, or just violent."

Sephiroth chuckled and shook his head. "Really..."

"Really."

Then the General looked at him, and Dulles jumped again at the sight of his glittering green eyes, feline-slit and mysterious. They glimmered with an odd light as Sephiroth chuckled, "And you? What are you betting on if I get drunk?"

A moment ticked by before Dulles suddenly realized what the General was talking about, what he was implying. Dulles stared. A slow flush of heat began to spread up from his neck and collar, and it was on the verge of staining his face red when the doctor came back, waving his X-rays.

"You're fine," he said in exasperation and without any preamble.

"Thanks," Dulles said immediately, hopping off the table and pulling his shirt back on. All of a sudden, things had just gotten veeeery awkward.

"_I'm not a fag and I know the General isn't either... But goddamn it! He says stuff like that, and all of a sudden I don't know what to think... What the hell's wrong with me?"_

Well, if the General was having fag spasms, Dulles did not want to know about it and more importantly, did not want to be included in them. He saluted the General stiffly and left the infirmary, boot heels thumping down the hall as he heard Sephiroth's chuckle float after him.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I still maintain that in PYLO, Sephiroth will be a sexless being. And he's not flirting with Dulles, it's just friendly teasing. If it comes across as otherwise, it's because Dulles is taking it that way...

Have you ever heard of that river in Egypt? It's called De-Nial.

Thanks so much to Silver Whirl for sending this to me when I accidentally deleted it; she is the most awesome beta-reader/backup HD _ever_!

/\/\/\/\/\


	67. Chapter 61

Put Your Lights On

1.16.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Sixty-One

/\/\/\/\/\

"This is cheating, Father."

"Yes, but you have more important things to do. Besides, this is interesting, which is a lot more than I can say for work right now."

In the wildest of his imaginings and Mako-induced hallucinations, Sephiroth had never ever pictured himself sitting at the coffee table, doing his daughter's calculus homework, while said daughter read her history assignment.

"I thought school was the most important thing for someone my age," Toriko said, glancing up from her book.

"Normally, yes," Sephiroth said. "But you're going into the army as soon as you turn fourteen, so this is more of a formality than anything else. As soon as we're done with this—"

"Fourteen?" Toriko said sharply, her eyes narrowing.

Sephiroth looked at her, brows raised. "Yes, fourteen. Is there a problem?"

"That's only three years away from now."

"What an amazing feat of deduction."

Toriko closed her book, looking distinctly annoyed. "Father, I'll still be a child."

"You won't be any older or younger than the new recruits," Sephiroth said. "What's the problem?"

Toriko looked disgruntled. Sephiroth leaned back and settled himself in for what was undoubtedly going to be yet another argument about her future. He was aware that she didn't want to fight or go into the military, but no other profession would offer the same protection from President Shin-Ra and Hojo—both prestigious and physical—if something were to happen to him. Toriko knew that, but she still resisted him. He didn't know why. Like the adage said, it was futile.

"Father," Toriko said, and there was a note in her voice that signaled the introduction of a new argument. Sephiroth blinked, and blinked again as Toriko subtly transformed, turning from sullen to pouty and from childish to...well, not childish. Sephiroth felt a prickle of apprehensive horror go down his spine, one that only increased when Toriko said in a somewhat lower and definitely more grown-up voice, "I'll be fourteen and around lots of teenage boys. Do you _really_ think that's a good idea?"

If it hadn't been such a terrible prediction of the future, Sephiroth would have applauded his daughter's smarts. How deliciously underhanded, appealing to his rapidly growing fatherliness.

"Ah," he said, and he winced a little at the forced sound of it. He was practically croaking. "Ahh," he said, clearing his throat with a cough and speaking in a more normal tone. "Well... That may be the case... But at least I'll be there to watch them, and..."

Toriko actually batted her eyes at him, which flustered him almost to the point of forgetting what he wanted to say. Damn it! She would be much too pretty when she grew up, which would be in just a few short years...

_"I wasn't there for her childhood," _Sephiroth thought with a vague twinge of guilt. _"And yet here I am, taking it away from her when it's going to disappear all too fast..."_

He couldn't help but notice that Toriko's olivine eyes were just a little larger than normal, giving her an irresistibly adorable look of 'cute little me' that just made something inside him melt... Like syrup.

_"But I don't even like syrup."_

Something suddenly fell into place and Sephiroth stared at Toriko, not sure if he could believe what was going on. It wasn't Toriko looking cute he had a problem with. No, it was something deeper, more pervasive... And deliberately forceful. Toriko looked back at him for a long moment, still all kitten eyes and pouty lower lip, and then burst out laughing.

Sephiroth placed his hand over his heart, as if to shield it from the oh so subtle magic Toriko was trying to work on it. "You're good," he said grudgingly.

"I could do this for a living," Toriko offered. "Charm men into protecting me."

"Wouldn't you rather be able to protect yourself?"

"Why work any harder than I have to?" Toriko asked, and opened her eyes to the kitten wideness again.

"Stop that!" Sephiroth said sharply.

Toriko laughed. Even her laughter had become subtly more mature, giving a hint of what it would turn into once she was over her ravenlike cackling. "Maybe I'll charm Rufus," Toriko mused. "If I start now, he'll never see it coming."

"...please tell me you're joking."

"I just hope he doesn't age like his father," Toriko said with a perfectly straight face.

Sephiroth stared at her, cold with disbelief. Toriko looked back, her gaze bright and even. They stayed that way for a long time.

_ "I suppose it's a good thing my hair's white already," _ Sephiroth grumbled. _ "Just how serious are you about messing with Rufus?" _

_ "Please, Father," _Toriko said, amused. _ "This 'messing' requires a great deal of finesse." _ She paused and said, _ "But it's just an interesting idea right now. I suggested it so you'd have an idea that you'd dislike despite it being quite a _reasonable_ proposal." _

_ "...Are you telling me this was all to say, 'This is how I feel about going into the army'?" _

_ "Yes." _

_ "..." _

_ "Now we're even." _ Toriko said, smiling. Waves of amusement washed over him, her mirth softening his temper. Toriko opened her book to go back to her history assignment and thought pointedly, _ "My femininity is a weapon, Father, and I've been taught how to use it... Should I really waste it in the army?" _

Sephiroth huffed, not sure whether to feel insulted or amused, and buried his confusion in calculus.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

You don't think he'd fuss so much, considering what he did to get into the armed forces.

/\/\/\/\/\


	68. Chapter 62

Put Your Lights On

1.16.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Sixty-Two

/\/\/\/\/\

There was a memo on Sephiroth's desk when he came in for work the next day, and the almost indecipherable scrawl, not the words themselves, instantly let Sephiroth know who it was from and what it said.

_"Why haven't you brought your daughter in? Hojo."_

Sephiroth crumpled the paper into a ball and made a three-pointer into the trashcan by the door. In the three days that had gone by since the Garrison bombing, Hojo had been making life difficult for him with these notes—persistent, pervading, annoying little reminders of things that had to be done, whether Sephiroth wanted to do them or not. He laced his hands together and closed his eyes, resting his head on his knuckles. He hadn't told Tori what Hojo had said yet.

_"The first time I was told to go back to the lab, I went AWOL for a month... And then Hojo's personnel hunted me down and tranked me like an animal. That won't happen to Toriko because I'll drag her in if need be, but... I don't like the fact that there's need at all. And that's to say nothing of how she'll feel about it..."_

Sephiroth almost reached out to touch her mind: she was in school, sitting through her first class of the day and gazing out of the window. There were no classes at Waverly that would have effectively challenged her mind since Hojo had pretty much taken care of her schooling, but it was important to go through certain motions of normalcy.

_"Such as 'my life is not dependent on a mad scientist'..."_

Sephiroth sighed heavily and raked his hands through his hair. He was considering the best way to neutralize Hojo without killing him when he heard someone step lightly down the hall and then knock on his door.

"Come in," he said, sitting up.

Come in. Two fateful words that started one of the worst peacetime days in Sephiroth's life. First there came the news of another Garrison bombing in Junon, only that the bomb had gone off on the carrier; some glitch in the wiring, apparently. While the fortress was intact, the bomb had unfortunately detonated during an exercise and had killed a couple of civilians. Sephiroth would have left his man in Junon, Heidegger, to deal with the mess except that Heidegger loved any excuse to pull out the army and show "the reason" for all the medals on his chest.

_"He'll force-search every house in the city to find out where the bomb came from, and that's the kind of PR we don't need... And it would be a waste of manpower besides."_

After giving Heidegger some very specific instructions (mostly along the lines of "Sit! Stay!") Sephiroth assigned a couple of Turks to go to Junon and sniff around to see what they could find. This was harder than expected since the number of Turks had been subtly dwindling over the years.

_"Well, I shouldn't be that surprised... It takes a rare combination of skill, intelligence, and the right genes to become a Turk. Even that skinny one, Reno, can stand up to a First-Class SOLDIER in a fight, and that's without any enhancement. That's the real reason there are always so few Turks; what SOLDIERS achieve through chemicals and Mako, they all have normally..."_

So Sephiroth told Tseng to hunt around and find more people "like them", which meant taking the protective detail off Toriko.

_"I don't like it, but it's not like she can't take care of herself... Or that I can't get there in fifteen minutes tops."_

Then there were details that needed to be worked out with the contractors Reeve had rented to him, people who needed to be reassured that the Garrison wasn't going to explode again, and also President Shin-Ra, who spent an hour chewing his head off about the "lack of progress in the AVALANCHE situation".

_"I'll admit I haven't given it my full attention,"_ Sephiroth thought as President Shin-Ra waxed eloquent about the problem. _"But that's because if I did, certain things wouldn't add up... Such as how I'd know who they all are without any proof."_

Toriko was in music class now. She already knew how to play the piano and the violin—again, thanks to Hojo: Sephiroth knew how to do the same—so the teacher had set her to learn the harp. It was a pretty instrument, but Sephiroth found her thinking that it wasn't nearly as interesting as her koto, which by virtue of being a movable-bridge instrument could play polyphonic melodies.

_"Poly-what? Never mind, I'll ask her when I get home."_

That was business up until lunch. Sephiroth popped a couple of headache pills and ate the sandwich he'd made at home; the food in the employee lounge had the taste and consistency of glue, and Sephiroth had no desire to socialize. Despite the fact that he was eating and was clearly not supposed to be disturbed, middling executives kept trying to sidle up to him and make conversation, if only for the glory of "Oooh, the General gave _me_ the cold shoulder!"

_"It's a pity I'm not allowed to carry my stun gauntlet to the office anymore..."_

Sephiroth was famous for his sword, so he was only allowed to carry the Masamune in public, but the truth was that his reputation as a peerless swordsman was due mostly to unmatched speed and strength: he could care less about technique, and the samurai who'd fought against him and lived had bitterly complained that he was a sloppy fighter. But Sephiroth made up for quality with quantity, and in addition to the Masamune, he had a wide collection of weapons ranging from guns to gauntlets, and there was no piece that he didn't know how to use.

_"Because you never know when you might lose your favorite weapon and have to improvise..."_

Sephiroth worked during lunch, writing condolence letters and drafting statements to reassure people that no effort was being spared to bring the perpetrators to justice: this was both for the public and the army, the latter being shaken that security had been so easily penetrated but not doing much about it aside from posting more guards. Sephiroth wrote up a couple of new rotation schedules for the major military bases and was forced to discard them all for logistics problems.

_"The fact of the matter is that the Continental armies are now united under me, and they _were_ structured as two different entities: things like unit rotation and distribution don't work cross-Continent, there's always a security gap somewhere. I need to streamline the armies and make them into one vehicle. Ideally I should have been doing this years ago, but I just didn't care that much..._

_"Hn. Maybe things should explode more often."_

It was one of the busiest peacetime days Sephiroth had ever gone through and forced him to perform mental acrobatics that he had little practice at. By the end of the day, he was ready to yank his hair out.

_"I am just not cut out for this behind-the-desk bullshit!"_

Sephiroth sighed and looked at the clock, blinking. It was five. When had it become five? The last thing Sephiroth had remembered doing was eating his sandwich at noon. Shaking his head, Sephiroth rose to his feet and put on his jacket, rubbing his eyes. After a moment's thought, he scooped up the pile of papers he'd just been working on and put them in his briefcase, which up until now had been a glorified lunchbox.

_"I'm actually going to have to use it for work now, at least until the AVALANCHE business is sorted out."_

He walked out of his office, nodding absently at the people who hailed him or saluted. He took the elevator down, leaning against the back wall and closing his eyes as it dropped from the 66th floor to the fifth: people came in and out, but nobody disturbed him, which Sephiroth was thankful for. He was feeling more than a tad homicidal at the moment.

_"I want to go out on the plains and kill things... I hate peacetime, I hate it I hate it I hate it. I almost want to start a war so I'm doing something meaningful again..."_

The elevator finally lurched to a stop on the 5th floor, where the parking garage was: Sephiroth left in a throng of other people and took the stairs up to the executive level, where the four most upper tiers of bureaucrats had the privilege of parking.

In a sea of shiny monstrosities, Sephiroth's mild black car seemed inadequate around the huge vehicles that the Shin-Ra executives used as status symbols. In a way it was; it didn't have any more space than Sephiroth needed and it was so plain-looking that it might have belonged to a suburbanite or a discreet criminal. Its only notable features were its windows, which were opaque to the regular human eye, and its incredible engine. Just as high-tuned as Sephiroth's motorcycle, Sephiroth's car was easily a hundred times more efficient with a power cell than the other executives' and could achieve a top speed of over three hundred miles an hour within twenty seconds. Needless to say, the pickup was incredible. Sephiroth looked forward to weaving through traffic today: it was harder to make a car pull the same stunts he got out of his motorcycle, which only doubled the irresponsible thrill of it all. He pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the car, which responded with a flash of lights.

_"After the way this day's been, I think I deserve a little hellraising," _Sephiroth thought as he slid into the car and shut the door. Sticking the key in the ignition, he thought, _"I really don't know how it could have gotten any worse."_

Click. Turn. Sephiroth frowned as the car made a strangled growling noise, and he barely had time to think, _"Goddamn it,"_ before the vehicle exploded into flames.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Sephiroth is kind of whiny in this chapter... I think it's because up until now, he hasn't had to do any real work in the office. It was just boring then, and now he actually has to think. Oh no::gasps in horror:

(don't read below if you haven't seen AC)

And I'm making Sephiroth know lots of weapons because the SHM do; how would they know if Sephiroth didn't have some experience? As for Cloud saying, "Sephiroth would never use a gun!" during the game, let's be honest here; how does well does Spiky know him? Cloud as a teenager bought hook, line, and sinker into the Sephiroth Legend, which would only mention swords since T3H Great Sephiroth's a SOLDIER. I think Sephiroth would have guns... Or _a_ gun, at least, the Velvet Nightmare. And that stun gauntlet he wanted to bring to the office is definitely the Dual Hound. However, the Souba seems like a proper SHM adaptation of the Masamune (SHM split Sephiroth, Souba split Masamune), so Sephiroth won't have one of those.

/\/\/\/\/\


	69. Chapter 63

Put Your Lights On

1.18.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Sixty-Three

/\/\/\/\/\

The almighty blast occurred just as Rufus was stepping onto the parking lot and he grabbed Tseng's arm to balance himself as the ground shook, accompanied by a swearing wave of heat that near knocked them over. Immediately Tseng threw Rufus to the asphalt and drew his gun, kneeling protectively over the now prostrate Vice President.

"Ow!" Rufus yelped, clutching his face. "Goddamn it Tseng, you didn't have to give me a bloody nose!"

"Sorry sir," Tseng said absently, his eyes fixed on the greasy column of smoke that was rising into the air. He felt the muscles of Rufus's back move under his knee as the younger man looked up.

"What the hell?" Rufus exclaimed.

They were less than a hundred feet from the blast, so they had an ample view of the burning car flying up into the air and landing with a thundering crash on its back. Bits of flaming shrapnel flew everywhere and Tseng banged Rufus's head into the ground a second time as he threw himself over the young man, shielding him from the burning rain. Broken glass pattered against Tseng's back, but luckily nothing lethal.

"That's it!" Rufus yelled, wriggling. "Get off me!"

Tseng got off him and Rufus stood, swearing and wiping his bloody nose on the formerly pristine sleeve of his white duster. He opened his mouth, presumably to yell at Tseng, but stopped short as the burning car gave a sudden lurch.

"What the hell?" Rufus said again.

They jumped as the driver's side door was violently ejected and a figure pulled itself laboriously from the flames. Tseng stared as Rufus exclaimed again.

"Is that Sephiroth!"

There was no mistaking that fall of hip-length silver hair, miraculously unharmed despite the nearly white-hot fire that had enveloped the entire car. Similarly unscathed was the rest of Sephiroth's body; not his clothes, Tseng noted wryly, as the last burning tatters of fabric dripped off his frame. Tseng and Rufus stared as the silver-haired man rose to his feet and brushed himself off, an expression of disgust on his face. He did not appear to be injured in any way, which sent shivers down Tseng's spine.

_"That's just not human..."_

Sephiroth, apparently oblivious to the fire, was staring at his burning car with the bright-eyed, near-homicidal expression of a man who'd just had enough. Tseng went cold with horror as Rufus cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Sephiroth's head snapped around and Tseng nearly jumped out of his skin at the intense and unreadable expression on his face. Rufus yelled again, shaving a few more years off Tseng's life.

"I said, are you alright?"

Sephiroth looked again at his car. Then he looked at Rufus and began walking toward him, indifferent to his nakedness as he swung back to point at the car and bellow, "Does that look alright to you?"

"Well, no," Rufus said. "But you're not your car. Are you hurt?"

"No," Sephiroth grumbled. He was closing the distance between them rapidly with long, brisk strides that were no less impressive for the fact that he was naked. Tseng blushed and forced himself not to look away. A quick glance at Rufus showed that the younger man was just as unconcerned with Sephiroth's nudity as the man himself was, and if Rufus could make himself look without laughing, then so could Tseng. The Wutaiese Turk kept his eyes firmly fixed on Sephiroth's face as the irate general approached them.

_"We are not comparing," _Tseng told himself firmly as a part of his brain giggled with the absurdity of the situation. _"No we are not."_

"I'm going to murder whoever's on security," Sephiroth growled. "How the hell did someone get a bomb in here? In _my_ car, nonetheless?"

"I'll call the bomb squad to make sure the rest of the cars aren't rigged," Tseng offered.

"Do that," Sephiroth said tersely. "And send someone to my apartment; knowing my luck today, there's going to be some paparazzo out there who's watching this rooftop."

"Are you body-shy?" Rufus asked, his brows rising. Gesturing at him, the ginger-haired man added, "I don't really see why, but—"

"Toriko does not need to see naked pictures of her father in the paper," Sephiroth grated out. Tseng snorted before he could stop himself. Rufus pressed his lips together and tried not to smile.

"That could be just a little bit embarrassing," Rufus agreed mildly.

"Just a bit," Sephiroth agreed snappily, and Tseng thought, _"That's not a bit!" _as he unintentionally glanced below Sephiroth's nonexistent belt. And again he thought, _"We are not comparing!"_

"Let's go inside," Rufus suggested. "You are kind of exposed like this."

Tseng snorted again and hastily turned away as Sephiroth glared at him. Opening his phone, he dialed the number for the bomb squad as the three of them walked back into the Building.

"I'll tell you this, though," Rufus said jauntily. "You are _never_ going to have any trouble with the ladies. This could work out for you, you know? Free advertising."

"If it's so effective, why don't you join me?" Sephiroth asked acidly.

"And look smaller than I already am?"

Luckily Tseng was behind the two of them, so they did not see him stuff his knuckles into his mouth to suppress his laughter.

"...that's not what I meant," Rufus said after a moment.

"I'm sure," Sephiroth said, sounding a little less angry.

"No, I didn't," Rufus insisted. "I mean, I'm not small. I'm just short."

"I see." Sephiroth said, definitely sounding amused now.

"No! Not like that!"

Tseng bit down on his knuckles, his body shaking with silent laughter. There were days when he absolutely hated his job—whacking people, kidnapping, covering up the Executives' mistakes—and then there were days like these, when Tseng would not have traded spots with anyone in the world.

"Midgar Bomb Squad," a bored-sounding voice said and Tseng swallowed his mirth with a cough. "How may we—"

"This is Tseng of the Turks," he said crisply. "And there's been an explosion on the executive level of the parking structure."

The three of them were now in something of a waiting room; there was a counter here and normally a valet to get cars for the executives, but most of the ones who used the valet service had gone home already, so there was no one to see Sephiroth, Rufus, and Tseng as they entered. Sephiroth sank into a nearby chair and closed his eyes as Tseng finished the call.

"This day will find a way to get worse," the silver-haired man sighed.

"Boss!" Reno exploded out of a nearby door, his red hair as wild as his eyes as he ran in. "I heard a blast, are you—"

Tseng made the "don't" gesture in the Turks' sign language as Reno gaped at the Great Naked Sephiroth, who had opened his eyes and was now looking at Reno in a distinctly unamused way.

"Just get it over with," Sephiroth said flatly.

"Okay," Reno said, standing up straight and coughing. "Uh...well..."

-_don't!-_ Tseng signaled urgently.

"Just laugh," Sephiroth said tersely. "I know you want to."

"Actually, I want to cry now," Reno said, looking mournful. "I swear, you get all the freakin' luck."

Tseng covered his face with his hands. There was a long, long silence.

"See?" Rufus said finally, looking at Sephiroth with a grin. "I told you some good would come of this."

"Free advertising, I know," Sephiroth said dryly. "But does it reach the right audience?"

Tseng heard the door open and dropped his hands just in time to see a female executive, one of the lower-levellers, come into the room though the elevator. Everyone went still as she walked by, apparently absorbed in the papers she had in her hand. Tseng saw her eyes flick to Reno and pass him over, dismissing him as unimportant. She saw Rufus, however, and stopped to look at him.

"Mr. Vice—oh!" She gasped and dropped her papers, scattering them all over the floor. Sephiroth, sitting behind Rufus, folded his arms across his chest and waved.

"Uh..." Rufus seemed at a loss for words. Tseng opened his mouth in hopes of trying to explain the situation, but Reno beat him to the punch.

"Welcome to Naked Day!" He said, eyeing the female executive's figure lecherously. "Care to join—ow!"

"Sorry about him," Rude said, whacking Reno casually upside the head as he came out of the door. The bald Turk looked at Sephiroth and Tseng saw one brow quirk in perplexity. Thankfully, he said not a word and then did something so simple that Tseng could not believe he hadn't thought of it himself: Rude walked over to Sephiroth, took off his jacket, and offered it to him.

"Thanks," Sephiroth said, putting it on and zipping it up.

"Oh, like that helped anything," Reno said, pointing at Sephiroth's lap.

Tseng could feel the air temperature just plummeting as he went cold all over. He was literally shaking with mixed fury and horror that Reno could be so cavalier toward their boss's situation. He opened his mouth to yell at him, but then Sephiroth asked peevishly, "Do you want me to take your jacket and make a kilt out of it?"

Rufus suddenly burst out laughing. The Turks, Sephiroth, and the female executive swung around to look at him as he belatedly clapped one hand over his mouth and grabbed his sides with the other.

"Sorry, sorry," he laughed, waving at them. "Long story."

"Ring-ding-diddle-iddle-ay-dee-oh?" Reno asked, his eyebrows waggling as he glanced at Rude.

"Ring-digh-diddly-ay-oh," Rude replied sagely, nodding.

Rufus laughed harder and nodded with tears starting to spill down his face. "And it's blue," he choked out, pointing at Sephiroth's borrowed jacket.

"Are you all finished?" Sephiroth asked scathingly.

"Oh," Reno said, shaking his head and looking at Sephiroth. "Lad—"

"Lad?" Sephiroth asked, looking at him with his brows quirking.

"Yes, lad," Rude agreed.

Reno continued, his face nothing but serious. "Oh lad," he said again. "I don't know where you've been, but—"

Tseng suddenly placed the mysterious meaning of the words.

_"They wouldn't!"_

"I see you've won—"

"NOOOO!"

He leapt between Rufus and Sephiroth, tackling Reno to the ground. Actually, he tackled Reno into Rude—he was still standing right behind him—and the three of them fell over in a blue-suited heap. Reno's cackle broke off in a yelp of pain as his head banged against the doorframe, and then another yelp filled the air as Tseng's knee went into something it shouldn't have.

"Frikkin'—" Rude gasped, curling into a little ball.

"I'm sorry!" Tseng cried, springing to his feet.

"Way to overreact, boss man," Reno grumbled, sitting up and rubbing his head.

"Uh...uh..." The female executive stammered, obviously confused.

"I wouldn't go out on the roof right now," Sephiroth said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sephiroth take off Rude's jacket and drape it across his lap. He was still naked, but covered now, and actually in a more appropriate fashion than he'd been before. "There's been a car bomb and the vehicles haven't been checked yet."

"The squad's on their way, sir," Tseng said.

"Good." Sephiroth closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. There was the briefest of pauses, and then Sephiroth quietly but unmistakably began to snore.

Rufus looked at Sephiroth, surprised. "Uh... Sephiroth?"

"_He fell asleep?" _Tseng thought, staring.

Apparently so. Faster than Tseng had ever seen anyone do so before, Sephiroth had just skipped off to La-La Land and was apparently making a stay of it. He watched as Rufus gingerly poked him in the shoulder and sigh in relief as Sephiroth did not respond.

Fifteen minutes ticked by. Rufus plunked himself into the seat beside Sephiroth and was jiggling one foot in classic impatience. The female executive had taken a seat on the opposite side of her room and was trying to concentrate on her papers again; "trying" being the operative word, since she kept sneaking surreptitious glances at Sephiroth. Reno and Rude were guarding the doors, politely turning away anyone who tried to enter and explaining the situation with the patience of saints. Tseng kept an eye on the lot and waited for the bomb squad, trying not to sigh. It was going to be a long day...

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I love this kind of dumbness. It makes sense, and yet not. Hehehehe…

As for the whole "ring-ding" thing, I recommend you listen to "The Scotsman's Kilt", which is a song by Tom Lehrer… Tim Lehrer... Someone. For those of you who already know, kudos.

/\/\/\/\/\


	70. Chapter 64

Put Your Lights On

2.14.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Sixty-Four

/\/\/\/\/\

The elevator door opened with a soft mechanical rumble and Rude heard Reno muttering under his breath; no doubt he was preparing for yet another snotty executive who would bitch him out about not being able to take his/her car home. "Sorry," Reno said, his voice dull with repetition. "The bomb squad's checking the lot, we'reAAH!"

Rude turned and saw Reno stumble into the wall, with Hojo striding briskly past him. He made a beeline for Sephiroth as Reno ineffectually said, "Hey, you can't do that!"

Hojo stopped in front of Sephiroth for a moment, not saying anything. Then he slapped Sephiroth across the face.

"Hey!" Rufus exclaimed, sitting up. A few other executives (the room was getting pretty full of stalled businessmen now) made similar noises of shock.

"Wake up," Hojo said tersely. He didn't seem to be aware of the other people in the room, only Sephiroth, who was amazingly still asleep. Rude silently gave him props; he himself was a very light sleeper and he envied anyone who could conk out that easily. Still, he flinched when Hojo slapped Sephiroth again, this time hard enough to actually knock him over. "Wake up!" Hojo repeated insistently.

"Stop that immediately!" Rufus snapped, shooting to his feet. Hojo spared him a narrow glare as Rufus said, "Just what do you think you're doing, Hojo? Let him sleep."

"Sleep?" Hojo said, turning to face him. "Mr. Vice President, do you even understand what's going on?"

"He's tired," Rufus said, his eyes narrowing to royal blue slits. Pissed royal blue slits, Rude realized with a start. Most of the time Rufus was a cold bastard, albeit a slick one, and Rude wondered when the last time he'd seen Rufus's face change was.

_"Must've been elementary school... He got pretty cold after his parents' separation. They never divorced, but they just can't stand living with each other."_

"He's more than tired," Hojo snapped, pointing at the still sleeping Sephiroth. "Whatever accident he was in put him in a regenerative coma."

"A coma?" Rufus said, blinking.

"Yes, a coma," Hojo said, his voice dripping with condescending impatience. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go fix him."

"How," Rufus started to say, but gaped as Hojo leaned forward, wrapped his arms around Sephiroth's waist, and slung the man (who had to weigh at least two hundred pounds) over his bony shoulder. Rude stared and peripherally saw Reno and Tseng doing the same. The other executives were similarly goggling.

"Excuse me," said a terse little voice, and Reno was pushed aside for the second time that day as Toriko (and where had she come from?) ran into the room, still in her school uniform. She jerked to a stop at the sight of Hojo, her entire body stiffening.

"A—Toriko?" Hojo said, looking at her and frowning. "How—"

Toriko shuffled back, her gray-green eyes hooded as she eyed Hojo with an expression of quintessential mistrust. Wordlessly she reached into her backpack and pulled out what looked like a flute case, a small black thing with clasps. Rude's eyebrows shot up in surprise as she opened it to reveal eight nested orbs of materia. What was more surprising was that they were all mastered.

_"She must've raided her dad's stores, because there's no other way she'd get stuff that good..."_

"Cure3," she cast, and Hojo twitched as multicolored sparks flew over Sephiroth's body, swirling around the unconscious man and sinking into his skin. Sephiroth twitched and then pushed himself off Hojo with a snarl.

_"That was fast," _Rude thought, impressed by the recovery. _"Apparently a coma doesn't mean much to him..."_

"Well, it's good to see you're feeling better," Hojo said, showing no trace of surprise or irritation. As the lights from a second cast of Cure3 lit up his face, Hojo adjusted his glasses and said, "You're not completely well; you need some time in the MilSci labs."

"I beg to differ," Sephiroth said coldly. He was still buck naked, but this did not take away from the 'touch me and I kill you' tone of voice he was using. Rather, it added to it. If Rude had been a poetic kind of guy, he would have made some vague analogy about this being Sephiroth's true self in more than one sense.

"You need rest," Hojo insisted. "Nutrients. Proteins. A Mako bath to replenish the resources you've lost."

"I don't need your help," Sephiroth growled softly, folding his arms across his chest. Behind him, Toriko put the materia back in the case and nodded silently, her gray-green gaze a miniature of her father's stormy emerald.

"Don't be an ass!" Hojo snapped. "You were in a coma."

"I don't see what the problem is," Sephiroth said. "I'll recover, won't I?"

"Yes, but slowly," Hojo said, his tone hardening. Taking a step forward and looking at Sephiroth askance, he said deliberately, "Let me put this in terms you'll understand: you're weak right now, and your life's not the only one on the line if you fall."

Sephiroth blinked. At first Rude wondered if Hojo had just made some sort of homoerotic reference to himself when he saw the General turn slightly, almost involuntarily, to look at Toriko: she was looking strangely guilty. That gave Rude had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

_"Sephiroth doesn't want to go with Hojo, but he doesn't want to be weak for Toriko either... Low blow, Hojo. You're blackmailing him with the threat of danger to his daughter."_

"Do what you feel is best, Father," Toriko said, her voice calm and quiet. "Don't worry about me."

_"That's like telling him not to breathe," _Rude thought with a mental scoff. _"What parent doesn't worry about their child?"_

"I'm due for my checkup anyway," Sephiroth said with just the faintest of grumbles. Rude was close enough to see his fingers trembling as he nonchalantly rubbed his shoulder.

_"I guess he's hurt more than he let on."_

"I'll come with you," Toriko said, stepping forward. Hojo turned to look at her and she faltered, but only for a moment. Squaring her shoulders, she walked up to her father and took his hand, matching Hojo's gaze with a small but frightening glare. She did not look at her father, which was good.

_"And why isn't she embarrassed about that? Has she seen naked men before? ...A lot of naked men before? I wouldn't be surprised, considering where we found her..."_

"Father, maybe you should put on some clothes on," she said, blinking. "You seem cold."

Only a lifetime of stoicism kept Rude from laughing; as it was, his head almost exploded the effort of keeping it in. Glancing at Reno, he could see his young friend's face twitching and Tseng looking up at the ceiling as he tried not to laugh too.

"It is a little chilly," Sephiroth agreed with aplomb.

"I couldn't fit your coat in my bag," Toriko said, reaching over her shoulder and into her school bag. "But I brought pants and socks. I hope you don't mind I had to dig around in your drawers for a pair of those too."

"Don't bother with any of that," Hojo said, straightening his glasses as Reno muffled his snickers at the 'drawers' comment. "You're going to have to strip down once you get in the bath anyway."

"I don't much fancy walking around nude for the benefit of anyone we happen to pass by," Sephiroth said, gesturing at the roomful of people that were silently watching.

"As interesting as that would be," Toriko said, looking over her shoulder to better rifle through her school bag. "I doubt the women would mind... And maybe some of the men."

"Quiet, you," Sephiroth said, frowning at her as some of the executives (male and female) tittered.

"I'm only speaking the truth, Father," Toriko said, a smile ghosting across her lips as she pulled what looked like a formless length of black from her bag. "Ah, here we are."

Sephiroth took the fabric and shook it out, revealing it to be a pair of pants. He put them on without preamble—one leg at a time, Rude noticed with an inner smirk—restoring most of his dignity with that simple motion. Now he looked more like his impressive, I-kill-you-if-you-look-at-me-cross-eyed self, and one only belatedly noticed his bare feet and hands. His bare chest was kind of hard to ignore, but this was Sephiroth and he could get away with things like that.

Zipping up his pants (_"That's gotta be uncomfortable,"_ Rude thought with a wince) Sephiroth turned to Hojo and said, "Let's go." Turning to Tseng, he said, "Take Toriko home."

"No," Toriko said at once, grabbing his hand. Reno was surprised to see fear in her dark green eyes. "Father—"

"Have someone stay with her," Sephiroth said, extricating his hand. "She doesn't like being alone."

"That's not it!" Toriko said insistently. "Father—"

Sephiroth looked at her, his eyes searching hers for a long moment. A whole conversation seemed to pass between them just then, and Rude fidgeted, feeling inexplicably intrusive: somehow he had the impression that he was intruding, even though he was standing some five feet back and not saying anything.

_"It's like the world dissolved and left just the two of them in it..."_

Then Hojo said something in Wutaiese. At once Sephiroth and Toriko turned and Sephiroth snapped back in the same language.

_-what they say?- _Reno flicked to Tseng.

_-Hojo say Boss bring Toriko-_ Tseng motioned back; he looked nervous as he replied, and Rude remembered Sephiroth's warning against the finger-language with a cold chill in his stomach. Luckily, the green-eyed General had other things on his plate. _–Boss say' stuff it up your ass'-_

_-no shit?-_ Reno looked delighted.

Tseng nodded imperceptibly. _–close enough. Now they insulting each other-_

Toriko gripped her father's hand and said something in Wutaiese that made Hojo and Sephiroth stare at her.

_-she say she don't mind, want to stay with Boss- _Tseng flicked. _–now Hojo and Boss hammering details-_

_-what details?-_ Rude wondered.

Tseng's hands were still for a moment as he eavesdropped with a poker face. Hojo and Sephiroth were still talking in Wutaiese much to the mystification of everyone else and Toriko was looking up at Hojo with eyes that either spelled fight or flight. The air around them crackled with tension.

_-Hojo wants to measure Toriko-_ Tseng flicked finally. _–blood pressure, weight, etc. Boss say no. Compromise at no invasive-_ There was a pause. _–now comes string of threats at Hojo-_

Hojo, if he really was being threatened, took Sephiroth's Wutaiese invectives calmly and just pushed his glasses up his nose. "Let's go," he said when Sephiroth stopped to take a breath, and left the room in a furl of white. Sephiroth glared at his back for a moment before looking at Toriko.

"Are you sure you don't want to go home?" He asked her.

"Maybe I can explode something," Toriko said. Rude had the feeling she was not joking. "And I don't like being home alone."

Sephiroth sighed. "Alright. Let's go, then."

And still holding hands, the two of them left the valet room.

_-they're close-_ Rude commented.

_-bullshit-_ Reno flicked with a scowl. _–he hits her -_

Tseng looked alarmed, though only Rude and Reno noticed; to anyone else, the tightening in his eyes was invisible. _–hits how?-_

_-slap-_ Reno flicked, still scowling.

Tseng relaxed. _–slap okay-_

_-bullshit!-_

_-my parents slap me. I'm fine-_ Tseng ended the conversation by brushing off his sleeves. He stepped out of the way as the bomb squad came back into the room, armored in heavy flak jackets and helmets.

"Lot's clear," the leader said, flipping up his visor. "The only bomb was in the General's car, and it's done exploding now. Looks like some kind of white phosphorous grenade hooked up to the ignition; key goes in, car goes boom. It's amazing he's still alive."

"Any idea who might have done this?" Rufus asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Nope," the leader said with a shake of his head. "The traces went up in smoke."

"AVALANCHE," one of the random executives said, her face darkening.

"Maybe, maybe not," Tseng said, ever the diplomat. "We'll open an investigation immediately." Stepping aside, he said, "Since the lot's clear, ladies and gentlemen, you're free to go with our apologies."

There were more than a few muttered swears and grumbles with precious few thanks in the air as the executives filtered out. Rufus waited until everybody else, including the bomb squad, had left before looking at the Turks.

"Some day, huh?" he said.

"Some day," Reno agreed. "Uh... Sir, if you don't mind me asking..."

"Yes?"

Reno pointed at Rufus's nose, which was starting to turn purple with bruising. "What happened to your face?"

Tseng sighed and put his face in his hands.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I had to cut it off somewhere.

Toriko is scared of Hojo, but she'd rather be around Sephiroth than alone at home, vulnerable, where Hojo or his personnel could nab her. Even if Sephy's in a tube, she considers herself safer just for the fact that he's around.

Something about the Turks' sign language; it's very minimalist and every word/gesture has a different meaning depending on context. This makes it easy to learn, but you have to think really fast to string all those little movements into something coherent. Also, there's not much grammar... Just so you know.

Sorry for the long period of no updating: I was traveling and didn't have Internet access. Enjoy the three chapter update!

/\/\/\/\/\


	71. Chapter 65

Put Your Lights On

2.20.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Sixty-Five

/\/\/\/\/\

Hojo straightened his glasses and looked at Sephiroth, who was locked inside one of the full-body tubes that were used for The Process and other SOLDIER-related things. An oxygen mask had been put over Sephiroth's face to prevent him from drowning in the Mako-nutrient mix he was suspended in, and the various probes stuck to his skin wafted gently around him, lost in the free-flowing strands of his hair. Sephiroth was unconscious, or nearly so; every now and then his eyes would flutter open and he would glare at Hojo for a second before drifting off to sleep. Just like old times, Hojo thought wryly as he turned his attention to the monitor with Sephiroth's vitals.

_"He's recovering unnaturally fast, even more so than usual—I could have let him go home, but there's one thing I need to figure out: how did he not burn up in the fire, or even get a hint of a scratch? Are his regenerative abilities really so high?"_

Only one other organism's regenerative abilities could compare. Not for the first time, Hojo gnashed his teeth at the necessity of leaving the main Jenova specimen in that hick town, Nibelheim.

_"Sephiroth's J-cell count is rising, and it shouldn't be long before he has the urge to rejoin the main body... I could observe that effect more easily if Jenova was placed here, but that might make Sephiroth react too soon. After all, how far does Jenova's call reach? It's been putting out a steady signal this whole time, and Sephiroth should be getting close to hearing it..._

"As should Awe, if her J-cells would just grow like they're supposed to! But no, her body is resisting them or subverting them or making them go into torpor—I hope it's a case of puberty-triggered growth, which would explain why nothing's happened yet... I really need to get her back into the lab. Her readouts are fine for large vitals and such, but I need a month-to-month sampling of the changes in her body..."

Of course, Sephiroth would not agree to that. Hojo reluctantly resigned himself to the fact that as long as Sephiroth lived, he would be Awe's fierce and steadfast protector. Any attempt to get close to her would be met by a long, pointy object of deadly intent.

_"I'd hate to see what happens when she starts dating,"_ Hojo snickered.

Speaking of Awe, Hojo turned to look at her. She was sitting—no, hunching—at one of the counters, almost hiding behind the black countertop to positively glower at him. The insolence in her eyes grated on his nerves: a mere month ago, she would have regarded him with blank submission.

_"Freedom is making her as irritating as her father..."_

"What?" Hojo snapped.

She flinched, and her voice was low and sullen when she replied. "...nothing."

Hojo exhaled gustily and raked a hand through his hair. "Well, I don't appreciate you glaring at me. Don't you have homework to do?"

She silently shook her head. Hojo looked around. There had to be something to keep those olive green eyes of hers occupied. He spotted a sheaf of old papers on one of the counters and walked up to it, taking a pen from his pocket.

"Here," he said, walking back and setting them in front of Awe. "Draw. Keep yourself busy."

She just glared at him. Hojo suppressed the urge to hit her.

"Shall we take your blood pressure?" He asked, trying not to snap. Raised voices only made Awe even more uncooperative; he had learned this very early on, and though normally such a little thing wouldn't bother him, the girl had an almost preternatural talent for hiding: Hojo had never figured out how she managed to disappear to everything but infrared vision in her ten-by-ten cell. One shout could put an entire day's work down the drain, so Hojo made himself speak nicely to her—or as nicely as his temper would allow, anyway. She seemed to be leery of kindness in any case, so he was allowed his prickliness.

If he thought about it, it was actually quite interesting how Awe managed to condition the people around her. By acting touchy and vulnerable, she had managed to make him bend in ways that he never would have done for Sephiroth; informing her of what he was about to do, for example, and giving her small rewards when she cooperated. Small victories, to be sure, but victories nonetheless. The girl was going to be a handful if this developed into a proper man-manipulating ability, combined with the good looks that even Hojo could see coming. While the reedy scientist was sure Sephiroth would scare off any boy who dared to show interest in Awe, Hojo had the feeling that she, like all women, would be too much to handle.

_"I just hope she doesn't get pregnant... Especially by someone with inferior genes."_

Which meant everyone except Sephiroth and a few select SOLDIERS. Sephiroth, however, was the only one close enough to her in genetic makeup that his sperm would not be rejected as incompatible material: there was always the chance that the two of them, due to their J-cell injections and unique DNA, might not be fertile even with enhanced humans like SOLDIERS. That led Hojo to wonder how Sephiroth had impregnated Awe's mother.

_"By the time I started trying to cultivate a second generation from him, he was twenty-two and already incompatible with humans. Toriko was conceived when he was eighteen—is that the cutoff?"_

If that was the case, Awe only had a few precious years of producing viable eggs.

_"I'll have to try them with a wide variety of material; the more chances the better, after all. No in vitro injections like with Sephiroth; those were what carried Lucrecia off, and Awe's too valuable to risk like that."_

"You already did," she said. It took Hojo a moment to figure out she was responding to his blood pressure query.

"Did I take your weight?"

"Yes."

"A vial of blood for testing?"

"That's invasive and not allowed."

Hojo scowled. "Well what would you suggest we do now that the options have been exhausted?"

"We," she said, emphasizing the word with a frown. "Will do nothing." _"_You_ may go screw yourself," _was what the look in her eyes said.

There was a knocking noise and Hojo turned to see Sephiroth, fully conscious now and definitely looking disgruntled, rapping his knuckles on the inside of the tube. Hojo sighed and pressed the fluid dump button, which with a loud mechanical hum began to drain the tube of Mako. He would have liked to have Sephiroth in there a little longer, but the man could smash the thing if he wanted and those tubes were _expensive._ It took five minutes for the tube to drain and Hojo walked over to open the hatch as Sephiroth removed the various wires attached to him.

"You're not completely well," Hojo lied with an air of strained patience as he opened the tube.

"I feel well," Sephiroth said, sitting up and getting out of the glass tube. Looking at Awe, he said, "Did he behave?"

"Yes," she said. Hojo was surprised; knowing whose daughter she was, he would have expected her to lie just so she could make Sephiroth hit him. Sephiroth apparently had been expecting the same and Hojo wondered if that had been a flash of disappointment that had flickered across his bright green eyes.

But all Sephiroth said was, "Good" and he walked over to the safety shower, of which there were at least two in every lab. Pulling the lever, he stood blithely under the icy spray and rinsed himself clean: both he and Hojo were indifferent to the fact that the shower was in the middle of the room, because after all, it wasn't the first time he'd done this. Oddly enough, Awe was similarly unbothered.

"Why aren't you embarrassed?" Hojo asked her, frowning.

"Should I be?" She asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

Hojo pointed. "Your father is naked."

"So?"

"You're supposed to be embarrassed when you see naked people. Especially naked parents."

"Why?"

"Tori, don't take cues of normalcy from him," Sephiroth said as he washed the Mako bath off. "Thanks to him bringing me up in the lab, I thought it was normal to go around without clothes when I first went into the army."

"Don't blame me for your exhibitionism!" Hojo said, frowning at him.

Sephiroth looked at him and spread his arms. "Who, me?"

"Stop that!" Hojo said, pointing. "Cover up or something! You're scarring your daughter."

"Funny," Awe said, scratching her head. "I feel no scarring."

Hojo looked from Awe to Sephiroth and back again. "You two are deliberately doing this to annoy me, aren't you?"

"Of course not," Awe said innocently, opening her eyes wide. "I genuinely do not understand social cues. They must be explained to me in explicit detail. And as long as we're talking about nudity, if seeing people naked is supposed to be embarrassing, then why are _you _looking at Father? Are you homosexual?"

Hojo froze. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sephiroth turning away, covering a smirk with one hand.

"Wha...ugh...ah...!" Spinning around, Hojo pointed at Sephiroth and shouted, "You! What are you teaching her?"

"Don't ask me where she learned that," Sephiroth said, rinsing rivulets of Mako green from his hair. "In fact, I could ask you the same thing."

"Why would I teach her about _that?_"

Sephiroth shrugged, sending water sheeting off his shoulders. "It probably wasn't intentional. Children pick up a lot of things."

"I could see you as a gay man," Awe said, leaning on the counter and putting her face in her hands. "Fussy, meticulous... And your voice goes high when you're angry."

"IT DOES NOT!" Hojo yelled, becoming belatedly aware that yes, actually, it did.

"Maybe you don't get laid enough," Awe went on. Hojo could feel his face burning as blood rushed up from his body into his head, coloring his normally sallow face bright crimson. "That would explain a lot too. You need more sex."

There was just something inherently wrong about a young girl going on and on about this subject. Hojo cast a look over his shoulder to see if Sephiroth would mediate, but the silver-haired man seemed perfectly fine with letting his daughter speak of subjects she should have had no way of knowing.

"What do you think, Father?" Awe asked, tilting her head to look at Sephiroth. "Does he need more sex?"

Sephiroth's face twitched. For a moment Hojo thought he was going to reprimand her for being so brazen, but to his shock Sephiroth only said, "If the way he's acting is any indication..."

"That is enough!" Hojo yelled, glaring at them both. "Will you kindly stop picking my life apart?"

"Why?" Awe asked, all innocent again.

"You're doing it to us," Sephiroth said in the same tone.

Hojo growled wordlessly under his breath.

"Poor Hojo," Awe said. "He must be very frustrated."

"He does indeed look tense," Sephiroth agreed.

"I'm sure some of the night ladies could help him with that."

"Or night men."

"Indeed."

Not for the first time when Sephiroth or Awe was concerned, Hojo grit his teeth and thought, _"Must not...kill...specimens!"_

"Look, Father. The veins on his head are standing out."

"Hmm, he appears to have more of them than when I saw him last."

"Are you two quite done?" Hojo asked in a low voice. "Need I remind you that I can withhold essential care if something goes wrong with you two?"

Awe looked troubled at this, but Sephiroth only chuckled. "I think you're going to be superfluous in a few years," he said, smiling. "I didn't really need that time in the tube, did I?" Clenching one of his water-streaked hands into a fist, Sephiroth let Hojo observe the impressive play of his muscles under his skin for a few moments before saying, "I'm perfectly fine."

"You, yes," Hojo grudgingly admitted. "But your daughter's still growing. She'll need me."

Sephiroth dropped his fist. He tugged on the shower one more time and flipped his head over to wash the underside of his hair; the tip of the sodden silver fall brushed the drain. Hojo couldn't see his face, but he could feel the discontent radiating out from him. Awe was looking down at the sheaf of papers before her now, her hair also hiding her expression.

"I knew you two would see sense eventually," Hojo said with a smirk, straightening his glasses.

Sephiroth ran his fingers through his hair, combing out the Mako in fistfuls. "We're not unreasonable, Hojo," he said, his voice slightly muffled by his hair and falling water. "But just keep in mind that if it turns out that she doesn't need you..."

"Careful, careful, Sephiroth," Hojo said, examining his fingernails. "Talk like that will make me have to addict her to some sort of drug in the interest of self-preservation."

Sephiroth glared and stood up, wringing out his hair. Hojo dropped his hand and fixed him with a steely black gaze.

"Don't you get it, boy?" Hojo said: it had been years since he'd called Sephiroth 'boy', but it fit the exasperating parent-to-child way he was feeling towards the man right now. "You can't get rid of me. Stop trying."

"How old are you now, Hojo?" Sephiroth asked, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "Sixty, at least?"

"Fifty-five," Hojo sniffed.

"In any case, we're going to outlive you," Sephiroth said, flinging his wet hair over his shoulder. "Time will off you for us, but are you really so selfish that you'll hook our lives to yours? Earlier you said that I'm not the only one who'll be hurt if I die, but doesn't the same go for you? Who will carry on your work after you're gone?"

Hojo stopped, his brain seeming to shut down. Vaguely he was aware of silence filling the gap between him and Sephiroth as he tried to think of something to say and failed.

Sephiroth took the opportunity to get dressed, and for the first time Hojo noticed how frightening Sephiroth actually was. As he took in the hard lines of Sephiroth's impressive musculature and imagined, viscerally, what the strength in those muscles could do to him, Hojo felt something like nostalgia for the angry, surly, but ultimately powerless boy that Sephiroth had been. That adolescent had been so much easier to deal with than the cold and calculating man that stood before him now.

And Awe; as Sephiroth dressed, she went over to stand by his side, and Hojo could see some of that same steel developing in her eyes, had heard it in her voice. Interestingly it had only manifested when Sephiroth had been around—Hojo guessed his presence gave her confidence.

_"Well, let's see if that confidence lasts."_

"One more thing," Hojo said, and the two of them looked at him with identical frowns. Strange and a little uncanny... "I need to draw a sample from both of you."

"No!" Awe said at once.

"Why?" Sephiroth asked, frowning.

"To make sure nothing's wrong," Hojo said, straightening his glasses. "It's just a needle."

"No..." Awe clutched Sephiroth's hand, looking desperately up at him.

Sephiroth rolled up his sleeve. Hojo could almost see him thinking, _"If a little blood is all I have to pay to get you to leave me alone for the next few months, I'll do it."_

"Fist," Hojo said. Sephiroth obliged and Hojo slid the needle into his arm. Sephiroth's veins were always so easy to find. Not so with Awe's, whose darker skin and less muscular body lent themselves to hiding the damn things. Hojo drew the sample and set the syringe off to the side, pulling a second needle from his pocket.

"Your turn," he said to Awe, who ducked behind Sephiroth at once. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. It's not like you haven't had needles before."

"That doesn't mean I like them!" She hissed.

"Give me your arm." Hojo tried to grab her, but she ran to Sephiroth's other side. "Awe!"

"My name's Toriko!" She snapped, glaring at him from Sephiroth's side.

"Fine, Toriko," Hojo grated. "Come here."

"No!"

Thus began the most ridiculous game of chase Hojo had ever become involved in. A more accurate name, perhaps, would have been 'ring-around-the-Sephiroth', who stood, holding his arms away from the action, as the two of them ran in circles.

"Stop making this so difficult!"

"No!"

"You're trying my patience...!"

"Go away! Father, help!"

"Do something!" Hojo finally snapped to Sephiroth. When the silver-haired man merely shrugged, Hojo added, "You know as well as I do that it's either this or a full out exam!"

At that Awe abruptly stopped and Hojo yelped as he crashed into her. Sephiroth caught her as she stumbled, leaving Hojo to fall on his butt.

"It'll only take a moment," Sephiroth said to Awe as Hojo got to his feet grumbling. "Just stand still and relax."

Awe buried her face in Sephiroth's side as Hojo rolled up her sleeve and grasped her by the arm. She flinched when Hojo slid the needle into her vein, her small hand tightening around folds of her father's coat as he drew the plunger back, filling the syringe with dark red blood. In less than a minute, it was over.

"There," Hojo said, taking the needle out. "Done."

Awe growled, turning her head just enough to glare at him. Sephiroth stroked her hair in what might have been a comforting gesture, but he was glaring at Hojo when he did it; it instead came across as more possessive than protective. Hojo glared right back.

"Stop whining!" he snapped at Awe. "Look, it's already healed!" As her growl became louder, he sighed and said, "What do you want, eh? A sucker?"

"Yeeeees," she said in a frightening little voice Hojo could have sworn he'd heard in a horror movie.

The gaunt scientist swore and dug into his breast pocket. He was so annoyed at this point that he could only vaguely enjoy the nonplussed looks on Sephiroth and Awe's faces as he grabbed Awe's hand and slapped a butterscotch into it. At least one pocket on his labcoat had some sort of sweet in it to keep him going throughout the day.

"There!" Hojo snapped. "Happy?"

Awe and Sephiroth looked at the candy. Then they looked at him. Then Sephiroth held his hand out too.

"You never gave me any candy," he said with a perfectly straight face.

Hojo swore creatively and yanked a second butterscotch out of his breast pocket. Slapping it into Sephiroth's hand, he said, "NOW are you happy!"

"I think you owe me more."

"GAAAH!"

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Hehehe... I swear I will make Hojo will have gray hairs.

And as for Toriko hiding to everything but infrared, there's a reason for that that will be explained later. For now let's just say she's really good at the "You can't see me…" game.

/\/\/\/\/\


	72. Chapter 66

Put Your Lights On

2.24.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Sixty-Six

/\/\/\/\/\

The next few months passed without incident as far as Toriko was concerned. Though AVALANCHE's actions had stirred other anti-Shinra and/or pro-Planet groups to protest in the streets, life was calm. She went to school, hung out with Meryl, got trained by Nanashi (who was slowly beginning to relax; she was actually smiling these days), and of course spent time with her father. After the first mental cutoff, he was very scrupulous about keeping the channels open even while he was busy: Toriko knew when he was, of course, so she didn't bother him. It was just comforting to know he was there.

Life was good. Life was peaceful. It was a wonderful, welcome change, and Toriko couldn't help but wonder how long it would last before something terrible would happen to her again.

_"Good things are only sweet because they do not last..."_

The sourness of this platitude did not bother her in winter, when she passed the time sledding and learning to ice skate with Meryl (they were equally terrible at it; it was loads of fun). In the spring Toriko became aware of it pricking at her stomach, making her suddenly jerk awake at night and stare up at the ceiling in wordless fear. It did not happen frequently or even consistently, so Toriko said nothing about it to Sephiroth. It was true they were in each other's heads, but there was an unspoken agreement that some things had to remain private.

One unremarkable March evening, Sephiroth came home and took off his coat, putting his briefcase on the counter. Toriko, as she had taken to doing, was preparing dinner—Sephiroth would finish it as his way of winding down after work.

"Welcome home, Father," she said, setting down her knife and turning to face him. Inclining her head at him (he still didn't like it when she bowed), she asked, "How was your day?"

"Fine," he said, but he sounded absentminded. Leaning on the counter, he said, "Toriko...The Tuestis like you, right?"

"If they don't, they've been playing a poor trick on me for several months."

"Reeve's not that kind of mean... Do you think they'd mind if you slept over?"

"No..." Toriko said, tilting her head. "Why do you—oh, I see. You're going out of town, aren't you?"

"Yes," Sephiroth said, and paused. "For a week."

Toriko looked down at the floor. Sephiroth picked a piece of lint off his sleeve. They didn't say anything for a long time, though Toriko could feel her father's emotions and knew he was aware of hers: uncertainty, anxiety, and not a little fear.

_ "I'm not comfortable with leaving you alone," _he thought at her finally.

_ "I don't like being away from you," _she thought back.

_ "Hojo won't mind crossing Reeve," _Sephiroth murmured, seemingly changing the topic.

_ "It only makes sense for him to attack when you're gone..." _

_ "Maybe Nanashi...?" _

_ "Against guns? No." _

"..."

"..."

"Can you get out of school?" Sephiroth asked finally.

"I can call in sick," she said, looking up. "But then...?"

"You come with me."

"But—"

"I'm the General. I do as I like."

Toriko burst out laughing. Sephiroth chuckled and unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves. She stepped out of the kitchen and sat at the counter, watching him as he began to take the assorted ingredients and season them.

"Where are we going, then?" She asked.

"Junon first," Sephiroth said. "I used to go once every couple of months, but..."

"Oh." Toriko looked down at the counter. _ "I'm sorry," _she thought. _ "I didn't mean to—" _

_ "What's to be sorry for?" _Sephiroth thought, sounding puzzled. _ "I only went over so often because I was bored. Now I'm not. It's no great hardship not to be breathing down their necks." _

He opened a nearby cabinet, hunting for a second before he found the oil.

_ "I've been meaning to take you out of Midgar for a while anyway," _he thought at her. _ "And Junon's as good a place as any." _

_ "What's in Junon?" _ Toriko asked, tilting her head.

_ "...not much different than there is in Midgar, except for the Armada." _

_ "Armada?" _

_ "Shin-Ra's air force." _

Toriko sat up. _ "You mean...airships?" _

_ "Yes," _ Sephiroth looked back at her, amused, as he put the chopped vegetables and meats into the now sizzling pan. "They're working on a new military model there," he said. "Palmer and I signed off on the blueprints a while ago: it has to be at least half-done by now."

"Only half?"

"Well, the thing's about a quarter mile long."

Toriko blinked. "Is that large for an airship?"

"Very large. Gargantuan." Sephiroth lifted the pan and tossed the food lightly; Toriko watched him, trying to figure out the secret. Every time she had tried to do it so far, she'd flung food all over the counter. "Normally I would have disapproved, but in addition to being a propeller model, it's also got rocket boosters."

"What are those?"

"Things that make the ship go faster," Sephiroth said, setting the pan down. "I'm not clear on the details since anything involving rockets is Palmer's department, but it's the reason why the ship is so large."

"I see."

Sephiroth opened the drawer by him and pulled out a pair of chopsticks. Stirring the hissing food, he said, "The man in charge of the project was named Highwind. He was an amusing sort of man from what I can remember... You could learn new expletives from him."

Toriko chuckled; Sephiroth knew she was always interested in expanding her repertoire, so he alerted her to all foul-mouthed men he knew of. Interestingly, most of them shut up the instant she expressed an interest in learning their insults.

_"If I didn't know better, I'd almost say Father introduced me to them to make them clean their mouths..."_

"It's a pity I'm not really supposed to talk like that," Toriko mused. "I've found that people don't take you seriously once you start swearing."

"This is why you save them for special occasions," Sephiroth said mildly. _ "Like when Hojo's involved." _

_ "I will make up brand-new ones for Hojo," _Toriko thought almost proudly.

_ "That's my girl. I know I did." _

"We'll be going to Junon in a week," Sephiroth said. "And then to Wutai after that."

"...Wutai?"

Sephiroth looked at her as she winced, realizing that her voice had come out in a squeak.

"Yes," he said, slowly and evenly: by now Toriko recognized it as his way of trying to make her calm. Look, I'm not freaking out, so you shouldn't be either. "Wutai. Every three years, Shin-Ra sends a couple of people to make sure the Wutaiese aren't doing anything against the treaty: namely, have no mastered materia, no military, and no human rights violations. We're there for a week."

Toriko looked down at the counter. She would have to go to Wutai. Of course she would. A week not in Wutai meant a week alone and vulnerable, and Toriko had no desire to go back to the lab. But still...

_"I'll be shunned, I'll be hated, I might even get hurt. Any smile I receive there will be laced with venom and I know they'll be cursing me in their minds..._

"And Mother's there too. I know she sent me to live with Father, but... If she sees us together, I'm not sure what it would do to her. She hates him so much..."

"We'll be in Lord Godo's house," Sephiroth said, glancing at her. "It's very nice, and he has a daughter around your age..."

_"I doubt she'll be at all like Meryl."_

"Rufus is going, as are the Turks," Sephiroth said; Toriko looked up, her spirits lifting a little. While she did not trust the Turks, they were nonetheless amusing—especially Reno, who had the rare gift of being able to vex her and make her laugh in the same breath, much as Rose did to Meryl. And Rufus, well...

_"Father doesn't think I was serious about controlling him... If only he knew. Not that I actually plan to marry Rufus Shin-Ra, but if I can make myself dear to him then he will protect me just as fiercely as Father would."_

"Who else is going?" Toriko asked.

"We'll be meeting up with the Continental Consulate there," Sephiroth said, "as well as the Wutaiese branch of the Company."

"There's a Wutaiese branch?"

"Yes, and they're not very popular. For safety reasons, they're situated in the Garrison we have there too."

_ "Shin-Ra has its hooks everywhere, doesn't it?" _

_ "It certainly does." _ Strangely, Sephiroth sounded proud. Toriko could guess why; after all, he'd probably played no small part in conquering the world for the Company...

_"But if he's proud, it's because he sees it as HIS achievement, not the Company's. If it weren't for the fact that Father hates managing things, one could say he's the king of the world as we know it..."_

If he was the king, did that make her the princess? Toriko chuckled, making Sephiroth look at her curiously. She filled him in on the joke and he laughed, saying, "Ah, you're discovered my secret. I am the true President Shin-Ra—that fat bastard is middle management."

"What does that make Rufus and everybody else?"

"My peons," he said with a beatific smile.

Toriko arched one brow. "Pee-ons?"

"That too."

Toriko burst out laughing and saw her father's face twitching as he went back to their food.

"One day, all this will be yours," he said, waving the spatula grandly at the apartment.

"Excellent," she said, looking at the full frying pan. "Though it's a very large dinner to eat alone."

Sephiroth looked from the spatula to the frying pan and then at Toriko, who was grinning. He chuckled and turned around, saying, "Shall we joint-rule the stir fry?"

"Aye," Toriko said, grinning. "And the rice as well."

"Oh, how could we forget the rice?"

Toriko put her face in her hands and smiled. There was a warmth in her chest now, one that radiated out to soothe the pangs of paranoia in her stomach. The intensity of it made her realize that this—sitting in the kitchen, laughing with her father—was going to be a moment that would stay etched in her memory, going into the slowly filling box of good moments in her life. If she were to die now, she could not complain.

"Get the plates," Sephiroth said, breaking her from her reverie. "Let's eat."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's notes:

I know I skipped a huge chunk of time—several months—between the last chapter and this one, but one can only type so much filler and fluff before the readers begin to lose interest, right? Gotta keep it moving, moving::snaps fingers:

All of a sudden I want to see 'Madagascar' again...

/\/\/\/\/\


	73. Chapter 67

Put Your Lights On

2.26.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Sixty-Seven

/\/\/\/\/\

When Nanashi learned that Toriko and her father were going out of town, certain issues arose: the prime amongst them was how Nanashi would follow them. She was in Midgar to keep an eye on Toriko, and even if the trip was only for a week Nanashi was not going to be remiss in her duty. It took her a few moments to realize that the easiest way to follow the Demon and his daughter would be just to go with them.

Not that they'd know or anything.

Nanashi was familiar enough with the Demon by now to know that he wouldn't care if she followed him and his daughter, but people around him—probably staunch Wutai-haters all—would definitely object. This meant it was time for stealth, and so on the day when the One-Point-Five Demon (as Nanashi called her Midgar masters in her head) was to leave, Nanashi was in an airship mechanic's suit, and 'checking' the Gelnika that the Demon and Toriko were going to take. She looked busy enough that nobody bothered her.

"All clear," Nanashi heard over her shoulder. Glancing, she saw a red-haired boy pop out of the Gelnika, sticking his hands in his pockets as he walked over to a...Wutaiese man? She turned a little further to see as the boy said, "Anything else, boss?"

Boss? It took Nanashi a moment to place the dark blue suits, which were zippered instead of buttoned—these were the Turks, the Shin-Ra Company's investigative/SOLDIER-recruiting team. They were also reputed to be formidable warriors, which made Nanashi think that certain items in their job description had been left out.

_"Because I can definitely see the bulges of firearms in their jackets—hard to spot even if you know what to look for."_

"Not that I can think of. Get ready to board." the Wutaiese man said. Looking a bit more closely at him, Nanashi realized he probably wasn't full-blooded. He was too tall for one thing, and he had a peculiar angularity of feature that was reflected all over his body. Not that it was a bad thing, but...

_"Doesn't he have any pride? Why is he working for the Demon?"_

Nanashi pricked up as she heard a gruff voice calling, "Takeoff in two minutes!" Standing, she pocketed the wrench she'd been idling with for the past quarter hour and ambled toward the Gelnika. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the red-haired boy and his ainoko boss split off, with the half-Wutaiese coming toward her.

"Hey, you," he said, his step quickening.

_"What to do, what to do..." _Nanashi thought, her pulse quickening even as her mind became calm. She glanced around; the Gelnika was pretty large and there was no one in sight. If something were to happen...

A hand landed on her shoulder and she heard the ainoko say, "Hold on—"

_"Too late," _she thought, dropping to a crouch and spinning around in a low sweeping kick.

His reaction time was excellent. His hand tightened on her shoulder as he neatly jumped out of the way, and she glanced up to meet his too-sharp face, his too-round eyes. Flinging his hand off, Nanashi jumped back and slid into a battle position as he landed on the ground.

"A _kunoichi?"_ He said sharply, reaching into his jacket.

Nanashi whipped her wrench out of her pocket and flung it at him; it connected solidly with the back of his hand and he yelped in pain even as he pulled a second firearm from the back of his pants. But Nanashi was already moving and she slammed him into the wall as she rammed shoulder-first into his chest and yanked the gun out of his hand. The ainoko grunted, rubbing the back of his head as Nanashi leapt back and aimed his own weapon at him.

"Nothing personal," Nanashi said, fingering the trigger; she hadn't used such a weapon before, but the principle was simple, right? Point and shoot. "But I'm supposed to be here."

"As am I," the ainoko said, standing up straight and brushing off his sleeves. "But I think you've forgotten something."

"What?"

Without warning the ainoko hurled her wrench right back at her and Nanashi swung out of the way just in time to avoid a tool to the face. It hit the wall of the Gelnika with a harsh clang, but Nanashi barely noticed: the ainoko had whipped out his first gun and was now aiming at her. They stood in the quintessential standoff for a few moments.

"You might as well put the gun down," the ainoko said. "It won't shoot."

"Likely story."

"Go ahead, try it," the ainoko said, the corner of his mouth tipping. "Aim right at my head."

Nanashi looked at him suspiciously. If he was being so open and free about her shooting him, there had to be some trick up his sleeve. Maybe the gun was empty or prone to jamming...

_"But if that's the case, why would he be carrying it?"_

There was a trick she did not know about. Nanashi's hands twitched, her finger tightening around the trigger, as she wished for the good old days of throwing knives and daggers.

"All Shin-Ra weapons are DNA-coded to the users," the ainoko said. "That means I'm the only one who can fire that gun..."

_"I could throw it at him," _Nanashi mused. _"But if what he's saying is true, that would give him two weapons..."_

"Look, Father, it's Nanashi."

Nanashi blinked and whipped around to see Toriko looking up at her, her cloudy-jade eyes amused.

"Hello, _sensei_," Toriko said in Wutaiese as the Demon came up behind her; he was in his usual business suit, though his braided hair and the sunglasses he was wearing at the moment made him look like a gangster. "Thank you for coming with us."

"Sir?" The ainoko glanced questioningly at the Demon. Interestingly, he also spoke in Wutaiese.

"She's teaching Tori _ninjutsu_," the Demon said casually in the same, as if he'd been talking about the weather. Nonetheless, the ainoko stared and Nanashi couldn't decide whether his reaction should make her proud or angry.

_"After all, I'm not teaching her by choice..."_

"Nanashi, this is Shion," the Demon said, nodding at the ainoko. "He's the head of the Turks; I trust you know what the means?"

_"This man's a bodyguard?" _Nanashi glanced at Shion, who was holstering his gun; apparently he no longer deemed her a threat. She tried not to bristle at the imagined insult. _"At least a fighter; he wasn't rattled by me at all..."_

"Try not to kill each other," the Demon said, looking from Shion to Nanashi and back again. "You're both valuable employees I'd have a hard time replacing."

_"Jackass!" _Nanashi flared in her mind even as Shion politely inclined his head and said, "Yes, sir." Something in his voice made her look at him askance; was there just a hint of irony in his tone?

"_Maybe he's not as okay with working with the Demon as I thought he was..."_

Without preamble the Demon brushed between them and the gun in Nanashi's hand was suddenly gone; she stared at her empty palms even as she saw the Demon hand the firearm back to Shion, who holstered it at his back again without so much as a blink. Toriko was standing at her father's side, as usual, and Nanashi frowned when she noticed the girl looking at her with amusement.

"_What are you looking at me for?"_

Nanashi heard the girl chuckling as she followed her father into the Gelnika's interior, leaving her and Shion alone again. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and found him eyeing her as well; not lecherously, just critically. Even so, it was enough to ignite her temper.

"What?" She snapped, glaring at him.

"I didn't mean to stare," he said politely. "You're just the first kunoichi I've had the honor of meeting."

She snorted and folded her arms across her chest. "I don't need your false compliments."

"It's good that I didn't give you any, then," Shion said in a dry voice that made her look. "They're valuable commodities I must save for others."

"Like the Demon?"

"Hardly," Shion said, brushing off his sleeves. "If you're really teaching Toriko _ninjutsu_, you should know by now that he's a hard boss, but a fair one."

"_Sure, if you forget he coerced me into teaching her."_ Yet he did pay her regularly... Not that she touched his money. There was a pile of checks in a jar at her apartment, ever a temptation, but Nanashi was not for sale. Besides, the money that Lady Seishi sent her kept her afloat, if not rich, in Midgar.

"It's different for a woman," Nanashi said, looking away.

"Probably," Shion said. "I wouldn't really know."

She looked at him up and down, taking in with disgust the neat Continental suit. He'd look much better in Wutaiese clothes... "Why do you work for him?"

"Because he's the best," Shion said. "And I have standards."

"He killed Wutai."

Shion shrugged. "It was nothing personal."

"And that makes it alright?"

Shion looked at her for a moment, not saying anything. Then he said quietly, "It's different for a half-blooded person."

"What do you mean?"

Shion smiled, but it was a strange and forced thing: he shut the door of the Gelnika as the engines turned on, sending a deep rumble through the floor. "All my life I've had to deal with full-blooded Wutaiese looking down at me; even the Continentals have done it in recent years. Do you know how rare it is to find someone who looks at you for your skills and not your skin?"

"And you're saying the Demon does that?"

"He's a pure professional," Shion said in a voice colored with the utmost respect. Meaningfully he added, "And he never lets his prejudices get in the way of a mission."

"Tch!" Nanashi suppressed the urge to hit him. "He might as well be a robot."

"Being professional is not the same as being honorable, but it does come close."

"And one should settle for close?"

"We all settle," Shion said, smiling that strange smile again. "The ones who don't either reach the stars or break. Since success is a mountain with only room enough for a few at the top, very few people will even get the opportunity to touch heaven, let alone take it. Still, one can be just below the mountain's peak and see everything just as clearly..."

Absolutely disgusting. Shion, like all Continental Wutaiese, didn't seem to understand that there was no middle ground when it came to honor. Still, Nanashi couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable at the grain of truth in his words.

"It must be nice to live in black and white," Shion said, his pleasant voice belying his hard eyes. "Almost like when one was a child and didn't have to think."

"What!"

"Buckle in or you're going to fall over when the airship starts moving!" Someone yelled from the front of the ship. "Not that we'll freakin' care, but if ya bleed on the machinery you're cleaning it up yourself!"

"So friendly," Shion murmured, and Nanashi stiffened as he walked around her to enter the Gelnika's interior. As he passed, he gave the barest of glances—less than a second, it was just enough for her to see the utter contempt he had for her in his eyes...

It was the same contempt she had for him.

"Banchopari_,"_ she hissed under her breath.

"Kenka uten noka?" he growled right back.

Nanashi heard Toriko chuckling and she looked inside the cabin of the Gelnika to see the girl smiling almost angelically.

"Don't mind me," she said, looking at Nanashi and Shion. "Go right on insulting each other. I _love_ picking up new insults."

Nanashi glared and peripherally caught Shion rolling his eyes. With a huff Nanashi dropped into one of the seats bolted to the cabin's wall and belted herself in, keeping her glare to herself. Shion seemed to be doing the same. The Demon was working on something in his briefcase, and Toriko was looking around the inside of the ship, for all like a normal girl her age.

"_Oh Leviathan..." _Nanashi realized with a start. _"I'm shut in with the three people I find most exasperating in the entire world. This is going to be a very long trip..."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

_Ainoko_ and _banchopari_ are very impolite words that are used to describe people not entirely of Japanese descent. _Kenka uten noka? _Means 'you looking for a fight?' I left these words in romaji just because if you speak these things out loud, they sound so menacing, a lot more than if you just said 'halfblood' or 'bring it, ho'.

And for those of you who don't know, 'Shion' is how Tseng's name is pronounced in Japanese. I considered leaving it 'Tseng' for continuity's sake, but went with 'Shion' for authenticity. Also, it's a little tag to let you guys know if they're talking in Wutaiese or not, because there's not much I can do to the dialogue (aside from 'in Wutaiese' tags everywhere) to let you know they're switching languages. Just so you know, there was not a word of Continental spoken in this entire chapter except when Tseng is talking to Reno.

/\/\/\/\/\


	74. Chapter 68

(A/N: Toriko will always think of Tseng as 'Tseng', not 'Shion'. This is because she still thinks of him as a dirty liar and not deserving of a Wutaiese name. Just so you know.

And J, thanks for leaving all the notes about Tseng's name in the reviews: however, during the beginning of AC, we definitely hear Elena call Tseng 'Shion-sempai', so I'm keeping it as 'Shion' in the story.)

Put Your Lights On

3.01.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Sixty-Eight

/\/\/\/\/\

Though only twenty-five years old, Cid Highwind was a legendary pilot and engineer. His fame had come out of the war, when he had flown supplies to the army in Wutai and lost not a single plane despite heavy anti-aircraft magic. As an engineer, Cid was co-credited with the invention of the helicopter and a number of civilian airships that were making the transportation of medical supplies and merchandise much easier. Great things were expected from Cid Highwind, and as a result he was under a lot of stress, which made him smoke. Cid smoked profusely. His mechanics said he smoked like a rich-running engine, with the stench of tobacco and nicotine as omnipresent as his flight goggles and welding gloves. People told him he was going to die of cancer, but Cid privately thought the stress would get him first. Give him a &'ing heart attack.

Today was one of those days where dying looked exceptionally attractive. Cid paced around the hangar where the half-completed Highwind—named after his father—was in construction, a glittering steel frame that Cid normally thought was one of the most beautiful things on the Planet. Now it was nothing but cause for worry, because the General was coming to check on its progress and rumors of that man's exacting standards were enough even to make an overachiever like Cid bite his nails. His body burned for a cigarette, but the General hated the smell of tobacco and every little bit helped, right? Right?

"Highwind, calm down," one of the older mechanics called, chuckling. "You'll wear a groove in the floor."

"I can't &ing help it," Cid shot at him. "If he doesn't like what we've done, the last three years are down the drain!"

"We'll be fine," another mechanic said. To Cid's infuriation, they and the rest of the engineers were lounging around the hangar, seemingly just that confident in the skeletal Highwind's superiority.

"Yeah, and if worse comes to worst with his Sword-Wielding Fagness, you could always suck cock to save the project."

Cid whipped around and bellowed, "#$&!"

"I like this man," said a little girl's voice.

Cid turned at the sound of the child's voice and did a double take as the General, flanked by the Head of the Aeronautics Department on one side and a Wutaiese Turk on the other, walked into the hangar. The little girl was standing at the General's side: Cid recognized her picture from the papers.

_"Oh fuck, why'd he bring his daughter? Then again... Maybe he'll go easy on me because she's here."_

"H-heh...Hey there," Cid laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Long time no see, eh sir?"

"Good to see you doing well, Highwind," the General said. Inclining his head, he said, "This is my daughter, Toriko."

She bowed politely, tilting her head just a little as she did so; it kept her from looking subservient. "It's an honor to meet you, Captain Highwind. Father's told me a lot about you."

"H-has he now?"

"Yes," she said, smiling. She did not, however, elaborate.

_"Fucking A... I hope it wasn't anything bad."_

The General looked up at the steel frame of the Highwind, his brows rising slightly. "Impressive," he said, looking at Cid. "Only three years and the body's almost done."

Cid blinked. "Uh...Yeah. I mean, yeah! #$&, it took us forever to find someone who could mold the $&ing sheets at the size and weight we needed, even when we did all the welding ourselves... And we had to come up with a whole new &ing alloy for the skin of the ship because nothing regular stands the heat from the &ing jet thrusters..."

The General nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. The quiet acknowledgment in his look—yes, it's hard work, I trust that you're going as fast as you can—nearly made Cid whoop with relief. Palmer wasn't nearly as understanding or patient.

After that, showing the General the Highwind was a cakewalk. Cid proudly pointed out all the progress that had been done, waxing eloquent about the details of airship construction. The Turk amused himself by looking around the hangar, presumably for threats: Cid had noticed his eyes glazing over within the first couple of minutes. The General and his daughter, however, were quite attentive and downright inquisitive throughout the entire tour. Toriko, especially, never hesitated to ask 'why'.

_"Normally I'd hate explaining myself, but she's genuinely interested... Guess that counts for a lot."_

After an hour, all that could be said had been spoken and it was time for the General to leave. After assuring Cid that his funding would not be cut, the silver-haired man looked at his daughter and said, "Did you have fun?"

"I did," Toriko said, smiling. "You are an excellent teacher, Captain Highwind."

"Heh, thanks," Cid chuckled. "Come by any time you wanna learn about airships."

Her mouth quirked momentarily, as if she were suppressing giggles. "...of course," she said diplomatically, inclining her head. "Thank you."

"See you later, Captain," the General said, turning. As he and his little entourage left the hangar, Cid heaved a sigh of relief and reached into his jacket pocket for his cigarettes. As he lit the first and took a deep breath of the fragrant smoke, he realized what a sweet scent sheer relief could be.

"Well, that went well," one of the mechanics said cheerfully.

"Yeah, it sure did..." Cid murmured. Taking a moment to savor his cigarette, he looked around and shouted, "So what the $& are you guys sitting around for! Let's keep it up! Back to work, numbskulls!"

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Yay, Cid. I love Cid. Cid is awesome. If you've ever had the fortune of seeing 'Random Battles of Gaming' at a con, the guy who plays Cid is just #$&ing awesome. Ask to see his driver's license. You will be utterly DELIGHTED.

And why is Toriko so eager to learn about airships? She's not, really. She just loooooves those expletives. Plus, who _doesn't_ like Cid::waggling eyebrows:

I may have said something about axing the Junon arc to a couple of people. This is only half-true. I have decided to send Tori and Seph straight to Wutai, instead of yo-yo-ing from city to city. It makes the story move along quicker. The past two chapters have been revised, though with nothing major. Okay, that said... On with the show!

/\

Anime Punch 06: the Armageddicon was freakin' AWESOME. I was on staff, and I'm tired…but very, very happy. Guess who has Cloudy Wolf earrings:D

/\/\/\/\/\


	75. Chapter 69

Put Your Lights On

3.02.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Sixty-Nine

/\/\/\/\/\

Built during the war, the upper part of Junon had a definite sense of newness about it, a shininess that had little to do with the fact that its mostly metal buildings hadn't begun to rust from the sea air yet. Smog and the usual city smells were swept out to the ocean, so Junon smelled invigoratingly of brine. Toriko didn't really like physical activity, but something about being close to the sea and the sun—yes, it was actually possible to see the sun—made her want to run around and shout.

_ "We can visit the beach later," _Sephiroth thought at her, picking up her whimsy. At the moment, the two of them were in a Jeep, taking a short ride to the Junon Garrison. _ "After I make sure things are all right here." _

_ "Yes, Father." _

A large and portly man was waiting for them at the door of the Garrison. Toriko could see he had been quite a powerful man in the past, though his sagging waistline and expanding stomach all but hid the fact. Though his face was lined with the effects of age and weather, his hair was still very thick and black. In particular, he had an incredible beard. It was a dense, almost foot-long growth that stuck out, not draped, over his neck and chest, and Toriko watched in covert fascination as almost by magic, the man's mouth appeared in its ebon depths.

"Sir, it's good to have you back," the man said in a rolling, rumbling voice that sounded like steel balls in a barrel.

"Heidegger," Sephiroth said, inclining his head in acknowledgement. "How are you?"

"Good, sir," Heidegger said. He turned to look at Toriko and she blinked as she saw two massive scars streaking down the side of his face, scraping precariously over his right eye. She wondered if those had been war injuries.

"Well!" Heidegger boomed, startling her so badly she jumped: reaching over, he ruffled her hair with one hefty hand and said warmly, "So this is the little miss—how do you do?"

"Fine," Toriko said, hoping her wig hadn't come unstuck. Her hair was a few inches long now, just enough to make using wig glue uncomfortable and messy: hence, it was all too possible for the fake hair that she wore in public to fall off.

"She looks a lot like you, sir," Heidegger said, looking back at Sephiroth.

"Thank you," Sephiroth said, glancing at Toriko. "I'm hoping she'll take after me in more than looks, however."

"Oh?" Heidegger looked at Toriko, his dark eyes twinkling in amusement. "Going to take over your old man's job, eh?"

"Hopefully," Toriko said: she did not say it was Sephiroth's hope, not hers. "However, if there is someone more qualified—"

Heidegger waggled a finger at her, chuckling. "Now, little miss, that's no way to act: you've got to be aggressive, tough! The armed forces are nearly all men and they'll do their game best to walk all over you."

"You wouldn't mind being under the control of a woman?" Toriko said in surprise.

"If you're anything like your dad, you'll know exactly what you're doing," Heidegger said, "and it won't be a problem."

"That's reassuring..."Toriko said slowly. "I think."

"Let's get on with the inspection," Sephiroth said as Heidegger chuckled: the black-haired man immediately snapped to attention.

"Yes, sir," he said. "This way, please?"

The Junon Garrison was almost identical to its Midgar cousin and within minutes, Toriko was bored. Luckily, Heidegger seemed to notice her eyes glazing over and suggested something that sounded vaguely interesting.

"All your father and I are going to do is talk shop: why don't you go down to the PX and look around?"

"PX?"

"It's an on-base store," Sephiroth said, looking at her. "It sells dry goods and sundry merchandise."

Wandering around in a store, even a grocery store, would be infinitely more interesting that hearing about troop movements and rotation. "Can I go, Father?"

"Sure," he said, glancing at Tseng: he'd followed them into the base, part of his duty as a Turk. "Tseng, go with her."

"Father, it's just in the base."

"Unless you've got a long-range weapon with appropriate stopping power on your person, you're not going anywhere unescorted."

Toriko scowled as Heidegger burst into hearty laughter: Sephiroth returned her look evenly.

_ "Tseng's a good Turk," _he thought at her. _ "And he's not going to turn you over to Hojo again." _

_ "Be that as it may, old grudges die hard. Do I _have _to be followed?" _

_ "Yes, and that's final." _

Toriko sighed. "Yes, Father." Looking at Tseng, she said in Wutaiese, "Let's go," and turned around.

"Tori."

She stopped; there was a definite note of annoyance in her father's voice. Turning back around, Toriko put her hands on her thighs and bowed deeply.

"Enjoy your tour, Father," she said sweetly. To the unobservant layman, she was being polite, though Sephiroth recognized the tone of voice and the bow for what they were.

"I will," Sephiroth said and gestured at her. "Come here so I can hug you."

An inexplicable chill went down Toriko's spine, but she walked into her father's embrace and suppressed a squeak of pain as he wrapped his arms securely—very securely—around her.

"Don't be cheeky," he murmured as she fought for breath.

"Y...yes, Father."

He eased his grip and patted her on the cheek, smiling at her as she stepped back, humbled. "Have fun at the PX," he said, and left with Heidegger. Toriko waited until he was down the hall and around the corner before looking up at Tseng for a long, considering moment. She remained still and silent, and waited until she saw his eyes flicker with the stirrings of confusion before making her move.

"Catch me if you can," she said, and bolted down the other side of the hall.

"Miss Shin-Ra!" Tseng exclaimed, giving chase at once. "Young lady! Get back here at once!"

_"Like I'll ever listen to you!" _Toriko thought, and a part of her idly realized Meryl was rubbing off on her. Aloud Toriko turned over her shoulder and shouted, "What? Tseng, I can't hear you! You're too far behind!"

Tseng growled and Toriko 'eeped' as he put on a burst of speed that made excellent use of his height and correspondingly long legs. She began sprinting, and an open door at the side of the hall caught her eye. Toriko dashed for it and was momentarily blinded by sunshine.

_"I've gone into the central courtyard..."_

Not losing a whit of speed, Toriko kept running until her sight came back, mere split-seconds later. There was a group of boys nearby, a few years older than her and a good bit taller: she could probably hide from Tseng if she ran into them. As she neared the group, she realized they were clustered around something posted on the wall.

"Yes!" One of them whooped, throwing his hands into the air. "I made it! I'm in, I'm in!"

"What? That's crap!" Another one bellowed, staring at the mysterious object. "Where's my name?"

"Excuse me," Toriko said, diving between two boys and burrowing into the group.

"Whoa!"

"What the hell?"

"Hide me," she explained/ordered, and grabbed the nearest boy as Tseng ran up, looking rather red in the face and angry. She ducked behind the boy, realizing belatedly that he was only a little taller than her and just as slim.

_"It won't be that hard for Tseng to find me..."_

"Move!" Tseng snapped at the boys, who recognized his suit and backed away, leaving only Toriko and her boy-shield in the same place. "There you are," Tseng said in grim satisfaction, reaching for her.

"No!" Toriko said, ducking around to the boy's side: Tseng growled and at once, Toriko found herself recapping the brief chase in the laboratory, only with the boy and Tseng instead of Sephiroth and Hojo. "Help, he's crazy!"

The boy Toriko was hiding behind obligingly stuck out of his foot: Tseng tripped and went down with a caustic swear that had the boys 'ooh'ing in appreciation and then 'ooh!'ing as he landed on his face. Toriko threw her arms around her boy-shield and hugged him warmly.

"I like you," she said, looking up at him and grinning. "What's your name?"

"Uh...Cloud," the boy said, looking down at her and blinking. He was effeminately pretty, which was the first thing Toriko noticed about him: when he grew older, he would probably be as androgynously handsome as her father. Only probably, however, because he had the wildest, spikiest blonde hair Toriko had ever seen.

_"He looks like a chocobo... And that spells 'cuteness' more than anything."_

He actually was sort of cute, though Toriko hadn't developed a preference for any particular look yet: Cloud had large, expressive blue eyes, a small and delicate nose, and soft lips. He was also possessed of long eyelashes, which Toriko was instantly jealous of.

Tseng swore again as he got to his feet, clutching his now bloody nose: turning to look at Cloud, he reached inside his jacket and snarled, "Boy, you want a pistol-whipping for that little stunt?"

"Pistol-whip him and I'll say the four letter word that gets every man in trouble," Toriko said at once, her eyes narrowing angrily.

"And what word would that be?" Tseng asked, still looking murderously at Cloud.

Toriko looked at him squarely and said, "R-A-P—"

Tseng hastily covered her mouth with his free hand. "Alright, I get the point!" Then, before Toriko could react, he backhanded Cloud across the face, knocking him to the ground. As Toriko gaped, Tseng took a deep breath and redonned his calm exterior, saying politely, "Now, Miss Shin-Ra—are we going to the PX or not?"

"You hit him!" Toriko exclaimed, staring at Cloud as he picked himself up, rubbing his jaw. His blue eyes, formerly the color of cornflowers, were burning with a sudden, unexpected rage. Apparently the boy had a temper, which Tseng did not notice.

"He tripped me," Tseng said. "While I was trying to do my job. People have been killed for less." Leaning down to murmur in her ear, Tseng said quietly, "Do _not_ make this more difficult than it has to be."

_ "Father, Tseng's bullying me!" _Toriko thought instantly.

At once she felt Sephiroth rake through her mind, scanning the past couple of minutes to understand the situation: _ "Very funny, Toriko," _he thought dryly, making her cringe a little. _ "Now that you've got that idiocy out of your system, you'd better behave." _

_ "But Father—" _

"Do you remember why you're in Junon, Toriko? It's for your safety. Don't fuck around with matters of your safety." 

Taken aback by his mental expletive, Toriko could only think, _ "Yes, Father..." _before turning back to the matters at hand or rather, the matter that had his hands on her.

"You know, you sound like Reno," she said to Tseng, startling him. "He once threatened to electrocute me into unconsciousness just to make me easier to take care of."

_ "Oh he did, did he?" _She heard Sephiroth growling.

For a moment, it looked like Tseng was considering the idea as well. However, Cloud chose this moment to throw a punch at his head, and Tseng's reaction was automatic. Swinging Toriko into his chest to protect her, Tseng caught Cloud's fist and twisted out: there was a popping noise and Cloud screamed, grabbing his shoulder.

"Stop that!" Toriko kicked Tseng in the shin, making him yelp. Whipping around, she turned to Cloud as he clenched his teeth, going pale with pain. "Are you alright?"

"Does he _look_ alright?" One of his peers quipped.

"It's just dislocated," Tseng growled, rubbing his shin. "He can get that repaired in ten seconds."

"Then do it," Toriko said, pointing.

"Repaired by someone else," Tseng snapped, his eyes narrowing. "My specialty lies in breaking things."

The two half-Wutaiese glared at each other before Toriko sighed and looked back at Cloud.

_ "Father...?" _

A wave of exasperation accompanied his reply. _ "What is it this time?" _

_ "Do you know how to repair dislocated shoulders?" _

_ "Dislocated... What did you do to Tseng?" _

_ "I didn't do anything! It's what he did to Cloud." _

_ "Who's Cloud?" _

_ "This boy," _Toriko said, looking at him and she felt Sephiroth glancing through her eyes. It was a strange feeling, as if beams were suddenly shooting of her pupils: she wondered if that was how her father's powerful Mako eyes felt.

_ "He looks like a chocobo..." _she heard him thinking.

_ "His shoulder?" _

_ "Yes, that. Here's what you do..." _

"Lucky Father teaches me things like these," she said to Cloud, grasping his arm and shoulder. "Stand still, okay?"

"Okay," Cloud hissed, shutting his eyes.

Toriko took a deep breath and gripped; there was another popping noise and Cloud screamed as his shoulder went back into joint.

_ "Good job," _ Sephiroth thought at her before fading quietly into the back of her mind.

"You should take it easy with that shoulder," Toriko said, lacing her hands behind her back. "It's going to be delicate for a while."

"Hey, it'll match the rest of him," someone cracked. Toriko saw Cloud's eyes turn dark with temper.

"I didn't see the rest of you standing up to a Turk," Toriko said mildly.

"Yeah, well, we're not stupid," someone scoffed.

"Or brave." Toriko said, glancing at Cloud: he looked surprised and actually a little uncomfortable at her words. Impulsively, she said, "We could use SOLDIERS like you."

For some reason this made the boys laugh and Cloud flush blotchy red. Catching a flicker of movement toward the wall, Toriko glanced to her left and finally saw what the boys had been clustered around. It was a list of names, and the heading read "SOLDIER candidates". After a quick scan, Toriko realized Cloud's name was not on there.

_"Oops."_

She was trying to figure out something nice to say—she felt guilty for being the indirect cause of the backhand across his face and his dislocated shoulder—when Tseng cleared his throat.

"Shall we be going?" he asked pointedly.

Toriko wondered if refusing to go to the PX would qualify as being difficult before sighing and saying, "Yes, let's go." Turning to her brief compadre, she said, "Bye, Cloud," before following her reluctant bodyguard to the store.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Originally we were going to have both Sephiroth and Toriko seeing Cloud getting his butt kicked in a fight and Sephiroth saying something along the lines of, "See, Toriko? That's what we call an idiot, and he's never going to amount to anything", but I couldn't figure out how to make that work. Besides, ticking off Tseng is one of my/Toriko's favorite things to do.

And I don't know how you put shoulders back into joint. I was making stuff up. My jaw, however, goes out of joint with annoying and alarming frequency, and a swift tap to the problem joint usually solves it.

/\/\/\/\/\


	76. Chapter 70

Put Your Lights On

3.26.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Seventy

/\/\/\/\/\

Being the head of the premier army of the world and one of the richest men to boot, it was natural that Sephiroth had more than one residence. His Junon apartment was styled differently than his Midgar place, but there were elements that remained the same: large windows, multiple avenues of escape, long halls and choke points that would be deadly to whatever poor fool tried to attack the General. Nanashi had to admit grudging admiration for a man who could live in and make use of so subtle of a fortress. As she paced the halls of the sheet-draped apartment—she hated when Continentals did that to furniture, it looked like the place was full of ghosts—she felt an electric crackling on the back of her neck. It was different than the all over cold chill she got when the One-Point-Five Demon entered the room: this was _satori_, the sudden perception of something just beyond her reach. Nanashi whipped around, her hands yanking her _kunai_ out of her sleeves, and stared at the person who had appeared so silently behind her.

"...Tsuka," she said finally, lowering her _kunai_.

"Saya," the other kunoichi said with a smile, inclining her head in quiet recognition. Years ago, the two of them had been part of the same clan: though not related by blood, Tsuka had been the only one Nanashi, then Saya, had ever considered a sister.

"I'd heard that you'd died during the war," Nanashi said, slipping her weapons back into her sleeves.

"A lie we found convenient to maintain," Tsuka said, again inclining her head: this time the gesture and the words were inflected with apology. She paused, and then said, "Saya, do you like the Demon?"

"Of course not!"

"Don't you hate working for him?"

"Every waking moment," Nanashi said, her eyes narrowing. A prickle of foreboding had begun to creep up her spine. "What are you getting at, Tsuka?"

Tsuka looked directly at her, her dark brown eyes hard. "What if I told you that you would have a chance—no, a surefire way—to kill the Demon?"

"I'd say you were smoking suspicious plants."

Tsuka reached into her pocket—like Nanashi, she was wearing Continental clothes to be less noticeable—and pulled out a long tube made of glass. It glowed faintly green.

"Nanashi, it has come to our attention that you are in a prime position to deliver a special...message...to the Demon, and consequently to the Continents," Tsuka said, and Nanashi stared at the green tube in cold realization. "This is a virulent poison that, once injected into the Demon's bloodstream, will incapacitate him for a period of five hours. After that, we may take our revenge."

"Who is this 'we'?" Nanashi asked, looking away from the green tube.

" 'We' are you," Tsuka said, her dark brown eyes glinting. "We are the downtrodden, the shamed, the once-proud warriors who bend backwards now for our conqueror's pleasure." Holding the green tube out to Nanashi, Tsuka said, "The Saya I knew was brave, dutiful, and loyal to Wutai. Does she live in this Demon-serving shell still?"

Nanashi glared, a powerful temper building in her chest. Fighting the immediate impulse to snatch the tube out of Tsuka's hand, Nanashi asked in a grating voice, "Tsuka... If I fail, then all of Wutai dies."

"Which is why you will not fail," Tsuka said calmly.

"Where did you get this poison from?"

"That is not important."

"How did you know where the Demon was going?"

Tsuka's eyes hardened. "The Saya I knew would not ask such questions."

"That Saya—that idealistic, doggishly loyal Saya—is dead," Nanashi spat. "I buried her at the end of the war when I changed from kunoichi to geisha, when I chose survival over pride."

"What is a life without honor?"

"I still have my honor, Tsuka! It may not be the scripted code that all of us were forced to memorize, but it is still honor!"

"What is honorable about serving Wutai's murderer?" Tsuka asked in a hard voice. Her dark brown eyes were glinting, almost glowing, not with the electric firelight of the Demon's orbs but with the sheen of zealotry: Nanashi fleetingly wondered which was scarier.

"I do not serve him, I serve Lady Seishi!" Nanashi snapped, her temper getting the better of her. "And by extension, I serve her daughter! I do _not_ serve that man!"

"The reports tell us otherwise," Tsuka said coldly. "He punched you and stepped on your neck and all of a sudden you're frequenting his house, following him around, spending long hours in his residence. Are you a masochist, Saya, or just that much of a coward?"

"Don't you call me a coward, you ostrich-headed bitch!" Nanashi screamed. Stepping forward, she jabbed her finger into her anee-san's breastbone and snapped, "Where were you while Wutai was being rebuilt? You were in hiding, clinging to the tattered remnants of the past, hiding with the ghosts and demons while the rest of us were trying to make new lives! And now, just as we're starting to get back on our feet, you bring us a _solution_," Nanashi grabbed the poison tube from Tsuka and thrust it in her face. "That could kill us _all!_ Do you have any idea what the Demon will do once he finds out who was behind all this? And even if the Demon does die, the full weight of Shin-Ra will fall on us—"

"Contingencies have been made," Tsuka said angrily, snatching the poison back from Nanashi. "It appears this visit was a waste of time. I'd hoped there was still a warrior in you, but it is as you said—the Saya I knew I could rely on is dead."

Nanashi resisted the urge to hit Tsuka: it would start a fight that would probably end up with one of them dead, since their convictions ran deep. Taking a deep breath, she took a step back and folded her arms across her chest.

"As dead," she said, "as your common sense." As Tsuka's eyes flashed, she said, "Goodbye, my once-sister. I will not agree with you on this and I will not help you accomplish it."

"Will you tell the Demon?"

"No. Like I said, I despise the man and if he can't take care of himself, that's his problem. One thing, however..."

"Yes?"

"Don't touch the child—Toriko. She I am sworn to protect, and that is a duty I take most seriously."

Tsuka bowed mockingly. "Very well—Nanashi. We will not touch the ainoko chit, the spawn of the Demon and his whore..."

"What did you just call my lady?"

"The Demon's Whore," Tsuka said, straightening. There was a cruel, unfamiliar smile on her face that made Nanashi go cold. "If she were truly raped, as the rumors go, why would she keep the child? And why would she send her to him? Surely a woman has more sense than that..."

"Lady Seishi's reasons are her own," Nanashi grated. "But she is no whore."

"She owns the Blue Lotus, does she not? Three guesses as to who's entertaining the Continental dogs..."

"She has her reasons," Nanashi repeated, though something inside her jumped badly. Not for the first time Nanashi wished she had never left Wutai. Things had been very simple there... After all, a geisha's life was not terribly complex. But ever since coming to the Continents, Nanashi had been faced with one troubling ideology after another, and she uneasily recalled the words of the ainoko Turk, Shion.

"_It must be nice to live in black and white... Almost like when one was a child and didn't have to think."_

_"I suppose I should consider this my growing up, then," _Nanashi mused. _"It's certainly discomfiting enough…"_

Tsuka turned to go, tucking the poison into her pocket. "If you ever wish to redeem yourself, you know how to contact me. I hope you will come back to us..."

Nanashi blinked, and Tsuka was gone. Her silent exit made something in Nanashi ache, for it reminded her of a time when she had come and gone so quietly, like a whisper or a shadow—a time when there had been hundreds of women like that, deadly warriors who were bleached bones on battlefields or mass graves. Tears pricked at her eyes and Nanashi let them fall, feeling them trickle down her cheeks and drip onto the floor.

_"Let those be the last tears I ever shed for the past," _Nanashi prayed silently, wiping her face clean. _"I will fondly recall the old days, but I will not seek to go back to them. I will not be consumed by what I can no longer have._

"Tsuka, I hope you understand that soon. Otherwise you too will become a thing of the past, as will all of Wutai..."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Nanashi is a modern ninja. She still has strong honor, convictions, and a lot of traditionalist values, but she's not unyielding or closed to change. If one doesn't change, then one stagnates and eventually dies...

Arg, enough philosophy. Bye now—have to return stapleguns. I will write more later...

/\/\/\/\/\


	77. Some fluff

Put Your Lights On

3.26.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Seventy addendum

/\/\/\/\/\

Toriko did not sleep well in Junon. The sound of the sea, relaxing during the day, was actually quite maddening at night. She had become accustomed to the steady thrum of traffic noise in Midgar, and the coming and going 'whoosh' noise of the waves had her lying awake in bed, thinking, _"It's coming... It's coming... There it is. Here it comes again..."_

So she hauled herself out of bed with an aggrieved sigh and went in search of Sephiroth. Having been solitary up until a few months ago, his Junon residence did not reflect the fact that there was another person living with him yet, something he had promised to correct soon. When Toriko got out of bed at midnight and padded quietly out to the living room, she found her father curled awkwardly on the couch. Her mouth quirked, though whether in annoyance or amusement she could not tell. Sephiroth had sent her to the apartment's only bed, saying he needed to work late into the night, and yet there was not a file or briefcase to be seen.

"Father," Toriko murmured. When he did not stir, she sent the thought into his mind. _ "Father?" _

_ "I'm sleeping," _he thought back. Toriko was surprised, but only a little; after all, the brain was still active during sleep, even if the body was not. _ "What is it?" _

_ "Do you want the bed? You're bigger than me and I don't mind the couch..." _

_ "No. I still need to work. I'll get up in a minute." _

_ "I'll get you a blanket." _

_ "That would be nice." _

Toriko chuckled and went back to the bedroom to bring the comforter out. Sephiroth slept with heavy down blankets; no light sheets for him, which could catch around his long limbs and trip him if he tried to move in a hurry. Plus, one just felt more secure in a warm, heavy blanket. Toriko arranged the comforter around her father and, after a moment's reflection, sat down and wriggled up to him.

Sephiroth awoke with a soft snort and looked at her as she squirreled up under his arm, putting her head on his shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked in a purely puzzled tone of voice.

"Sleeping," she said, closing her eyes. "I need constant noise to sleep."

"And I make constant noise?"

"You breathe, and your heart hums. That works for me."

Sephiroth chuckled and she felt his arm tighten around her waist; their difference in stature was such that she was completely encircled. The drowsy warmth he gave off, coupled with the blanket, had an immediately soporific effect and Toriko found herself yawning.

"Don't kick me in your sleep," Sephiroth said, shutting his eyes.

_ "I won't," _Toriko thought, already drifting off.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Some really short fluff; this is why I'm including it with another chapter. Just thought I'd put in a little something to show how far the two of them have come.

/\/\/\/\/\


	78. Chapter 71

Put Your Lights On

3.26.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Seventy-One

/\/\/\/\/\

Sephiroth didn't like airships. He wasn't claustrophobic, at least not to the point where he felt like he couldn't breathe, but closed-in spaces like airships and boats where immediate escape was not an option made him antsy. Usually he buried the anxiety in work, but this time he let himself relax and partake of Toriko's amusement. Unlike him, she was completely delighted by the airship.

"There's nothing new outside that window, Tori," he said to her when he found her pressing her face against the porthole.

"I'm still amazed we're above the clouds in something so heavy," she said, still looking out of the window. "What are clouds made of?"

"Water."

"You mean like steam?"

"Sort of like steam." Sephiroth looked out of the window. He had to admit seeing the fluffy, poofy white clouds zooming below was a little interesting, especially when they seemed to vanish into mist when the Gelnika flew through them. Looking down at his daughter, he said, "What did you think they were made out of?"

"Cotton," was the prompt reply. "Or spiderwebs."

"Where did rain come from, then?"

"Da-Chao peeing on people."

Sephiroth snorted before he could stop himself. It was a view he'd heard before, but to hear it juxtaposed with 'cotton' and 'spiderwebs' was somehow impossible not to laugh at. Toriko glanced up at him and smiled, but only for a moment.

"What am I going to do in Wutai?" She asked somberly.

Sephiroth looked at her for a long moment, not saying anything. At length he folded his arms across his chest and looked out of the window.

_"How could I forget her stigma of being halfblood and_ my _daughter?"_

"I don't know," he said. "Needless to say, you're not going out of the palace unescorted."

"Can I take Reno?"

"Tseng looks more dangerous." Sephiroth looked at her, surprised. "I thought you didn't like Reno."

"He's funny when he loses his temper," Toriko said with a completely straight face. "Besides, Tseng looks very professional; if any Turk is sitting in on the peace talks, it—"

"He'll have the same problem you will," Sephiroth said, looking back out of the window. "Not exactly the same, but... And in any case, Reno can look presentable and Rude's here as well."

"I don't like Tseng."

"Would you rather walk around alone?"

"...maybe I should have stayed in Midgar," Toriko said softly, looking down at the floor. "There will still be people in Lord Godo's palace, after all, and they'll be watching me..."

"There will always be people watching you, Tori," Sephiroth said, looking down at her. "But it's up to you as to how much you let yourself be affected by it. After all, they're just watching."

"And judging."

"So? What do you care what they think?"

"I can't help it, Father," she said, looking at him significantly. _ "I'm not the same as you," _she thought. _ "If I go through a room, I get...impressions." _

_ "What are you saying, you can't shut it off?" _

_ "No. I tried once, but it made me feel too vulnerable." _

Sephiroth turned completely around to face her, frowning. _ "Tori, what exactly are you capable of?" _

_ "Talking like this," _she thought back, lacing her hands behind her back. _ "Influencing people. Making them forget things for a short while. When I get angry, I can move things." _

_ "And you get impressions." _

_ "Yes." _

Sephiroth rubbed his chin. _ "I remember... You did that during the press conference. Hmm, maybe you should sit in on the meetings." _

_"What?" _Toriko sounded alarmed.

_ "It's always hard to tell what the Wutaiese are thinking. You could help us a great deal by telling us exactly what's going through their heads." _

_ "To what end?" _

_ "To make sure they're not trying to sneak extra liberties into their peace contract." _ Toriko shuffled, looking uncomfortable. Sephiroth added, _ "They haven't done anything for you, Tori. You're not betraying them." _

_ "But it's an unfair advantage..." _

_ "Advantage, yes. Unfair? I hardly think so. These are your natural abilities and it would be a crime not to use them. If there's anything I hate, it's someone who won't exercise their full potential." _

He could see her cringing under the implied threat. It surprised him still how easy Toriko was to manipulate when it came to threats of emotional estrangement, though he couldn't say he was entirely immune to the things himself. Still, he wouldn't wince like a beat puppy.

To take some of the sting away, he patted her on the head; he rarely hugged her because as strong as she was for her age, she was still fragile by his standards and he was afraid of breaking her. She in turn was afraid of being broken, especially after the incident in Junon.

_ "...I didn't hurt you when I did that, did I?" _

_ "No more than was intended." _

_ "Good." _

Toriko leaned into his hand, pressing her cheek against his palm like a kitten. It was a measure of how worried she was when she leaned against him, gathering fistfuls of his coat in her hands.

_ "Mother's going to hate me," _she thought miserably.

_ "It's a possibility," _he agreed, wrapping his arms loosely—very loosely—around her. _ "Nanashi will no doubt report that we are close." _

_ "I'm worried about her." _

Sephiroth exhaled slowly. He hadn't said anything to Toriko, but he hated having to contend with Seishi for top place in her heart. Sure, the woman had carried her for nine months and raised her for seven years, but...

_"Seishi gave Toriko away... Gave her to me. Tori even said Seishi sent her to live with me, despite everything that's happened. I don't care how desperate the woman was, she should not have done that. Probably a part of her was hoping I'd kill Tori: then neither of us would have an inconvenient child in our lives and she could forget anything had ever happened to her…_

_"And despite all that, Tori still loves her! Why? If I have my way, she will never see that woman again..."_

Yet something in him stalled from saying the words "I forbid you from seeing your mother," even though Sephiroth knew Toriko would obey. He puzzled over why he was balking for a few moments before the solution occurred to him.

_"She'll find out what Seishi's like soon enough..."_

"Take a nap," Sephiroth suggested, looking down at her. "This is going to be a very long flight."

Toriko sighed and let go of his coat, taking a step back. "Yes, Father. I think I'll go lie down now."

He watched her walk off, small and forlorn, and exhaled gustily, shutting his eyes. At once he was aware of Nanashi at his side.

"I marvel at your parenting skills," she said dryly as he turned to face her. Once she'd gotten over her initial fear of him, Nanashi was downright impudent, always pushing her limits to see how much she could say to him before he snapped at her. It was a game Sephiroth normally didn't mind playing—stumping a master of insults like Nanashi was a rare delight—but he definitely wasn't in the mood right now.

"Do you need something to occupy your time too?" He asked, keeping the acid out of his voice for maximum impact. "Because if that's the case, I don't think Shion's doing anything. Why don't you fuck around with him instead?"

He didn't bother to relish the look of complete and utter shock on Nanashi's face as he swept out of the hall and into his own room.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

The updates have been fairly regular up until now, but this is a warning to say that they may not be so in the near future—because this is the last chapter I've typed. You heard me right, there's no 'chapter cushion' ahead of this. I'll be publishing them as I write them now, so there will be breaks, hiatuses, and other such pleasant surprises...

In the mean time, amuse yourself with my deviantart gallery! It's atharvaveda27 dot deviantart cot com, and I have some PYLO stuff up. Soon I'll have mugshots of what Nanashi, Meryl, Dulles, and Elaine look like, and a special fun picture for all those who've wondered what will happen when Toriko starts dating...

/\/\/\/\/\


	79. Chapter 72

Put Your Lights On

4.10.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Seventy-Two

/\/\/\/\/\

"My lady, I have returned."

Seishi lifted her head as her kunoichi came in, dropping respectfully to touch her fist to the floor. "Nanashi," Seishi said in acknowledgement as Nanashi looked at her. "How was the trip?"

"Eh," Nanashi said cryptically. Seishi didn't press the issue: the kunoichi would have mentioned if something of note had happened. "Your daughter is nervous, but doing well."

"Have you found out why the Demon brought her here?"

"No, my lady—they just seem to be, uh..."

"Close?" Seishi saw Nanashi twitch. "It's only to be expected. She only knows his kindness and I wouldn't expect him to show her anything but... Much as it sits strange in my mind. How does her training go?"

Nanashi's eyes flickered. "It...goes well, my lady. Almost too well, in fact. No sooner do I show her something than she replicates it in perfect detail. I must needs invent more and more ridiculous curriculum to push her limits, which seem to have no end... And the Demon trains her as well, taking her out on the weekends to fight on the plains."

"Fight what, monsters?"

"Yes, my lady." Reacting to her frown, Nanashi said quickly, "He is a most scrupulous protector, Lady Seishi."

"I don't doubt that," Seishi said, her voice low and guttural. "I also don't doubt that he's deliberately putting her in danger."

Nanashi shifted uncomfortably, her movement a silent agreement with Seishi's words. Seishi sighed heavily and closed her eyes, leaning against the wall of her house: she was sitting outside, with Nanashi before her on the flagstones leading up to the veranda. Ubiquitous Tsukiko was at her side, ready to help her stand or walk.

"Get into your geisha clothes," Seishi said at length. "The Continentals are coming here for their amusement and you're one of our most graceful dancers. You need time to practice."

"You don't want me watching Miss Toriko?"

"Your reports of their behavior over the past several months seem to indicate the normal bonds of parent and child," Seishi said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "I... I'm not in a position to do much even if it is otherwise."

_"It would do neither of them any good if people were to know I—her mother—were alive. There was a reason the Demon set up those strange lies, and he was anything but stupid."_

"She has expressed a desire to see you, my lady."

Seishi looked up sharply. "What?"

"Miss Toriko would like to see you," Nanashi repeated.

"Out of the question," Seishi snapped, her one eye flashing. "There is to be no connection between us. There's too much for her to lose." She nodded at Tsukiko, who slid back into the house and came out a moment later, bearing a cloth-wrapped bundle in her arms. As Nanashi took the bundle from the small girl, Seishi said quietly, "I am to remain a shadow benefactor, an anonymous aunt from an ignoble family. It's safer for her that way."

"I will tell her that, my lady," Nanashi said, taking the bundle of fabric. She blinked as she felt its weight, and from the way her eyes widened Seishi knew Nanashi could tell what it was. "Ah…"

"It seems appropriate," Seishi said, leaning on her cane.

"But such a weighty gift..."

"We're in a position to afford it."

Nanashi seemed to be struggling as she wrapped the swords more securely and tied them to her back, but if she was having some kind of issue, she kept it to herself. Seishi closed her eyes and settled against the wall of her house.

"Anything else, Nanashi?"

"Mmm...one of other thing of note," Nanashi said reluctantly. "It has only vaguely to do with your daughter."

"Tell me."

"I was approached in Junon by a radical traditionalist—they plan an assassination attempt on the Demon."

Seishi opened her eyes and looked at her chief kunoichi, her brow arching. "...How stupid are they?"

"My exact question, my lady, but they're going to do it."

"Do you know where?"

"No. However, the presence of a kunoichi coming forth to ask me to deliver the...message…makes me think they'll make use of the gentler sex."

Meaning they would strike somewhere where there was a lot of women. And where would the Demon go that would have a lot of women...?

"Those fuckshit bastards," Seishi growled, her hands tightening around the dragon-headed top of her cane. "To use my establishment..."

"They could strike in the palace, but since security is bound to be lighter here..."

Seishi resisted the urge to chew on her lip; she'd done that once out of nervous habit and had nearly bitten through her rotting flesh—the pain had been excruciating. Agitated, she flexed her hands atop her cane, rocking back and forth.

"Much as it galls me, we'll have to protect the Demon," Seishi growled, her voice such a deep snarl she barely understood herself. "If something happens to him or to any of the Continentals on our soil, Godo will have us all axed by way of apology—and then the Shin-Ra will come for retribution. It'll be the war all over again. Those brainless idiots. Those bastards!" Her hands tightened around her cane, layers of blackened skin flaking off with the force of her rage. "To put me in this position..."

"My lady, calm yourself," Nanashi said, looking at her peeling skin in alarm. "Suzu and I can take care of it."

"The fewer people who know this, the better," Seishi said, shaking her head. "Besides, Suzu is a good businesswoman, but her head is not made for this kind of intrigue. I think we need professionals..."

"Mercenaries?"

"Mm. We already have a number on staff to make sure no one molests our girls—even if they want to be molested—and it would be only natural to swell their ranks in order to prepare for the Continental visit."

"But mercenaries... They'd give anything up for money!"

"If we tell them we have traitors in our midst, they'll be on the lookout. If the traditionalists get wind of our added security, they may decide to attack elsewhere. It's a win-win situation."

"Only until the traditionalists buy them out from under us."

"How do they plan to kill the Demon?"

"Poison," Nanashi said, not fazed by the apparent change in subject.

"What kind?"

"I don't know, I've never seen a kind that glows green before."

"Glow greens?" Seishi frowned deeply. Unknown to all but a few, Seishi was quite an expert in poisons; it was more a hobby than a trade, but she still considered herself one of the foremost toxicologists on the Planet since she could easily recall a thousand such substances and their antidotes without aid of a computer. Chanting them daily reassured her that her mind was not going. "Hmm. So they have a third hand too... The situation's become more complicated."

"How so?"

"No poison glows green naturally. They're using something out of nature, which means Continental help."

"But they're traditionalists!"

"To whom the end justifies the means... Besides, it's the Demon. If it has a chance of taking him down, then they would leap at it even if the King of Hell offered it to them.

"And I am inclined to think that because their actions are so precipitous, it _was_ offered to them; they would see it as a sign from Heaven to strike now. I doubt they have enough money to bribe such a poison from the Continentals, and as such enough money to take our mercenaries away."

Nanashi mulled deeply over this. "...Should I inform Continental security?"

"You haven't?"

"Well, it's the Demon's problem..."

"It's _our_ problem," Seishi snapped harshly, making Nanashi flinch. "Yes, tell them with all haste. We don't want them to die, at least not in our establishment."

"Yes, my lady..." Nanashi muttered. Seishi looked at her for a moment.

"I said tell security," she said, making Nanashi look up. "Not the Demon. Knowing security people to be the way they are, they'll operate on a strict need-to-know basis and assassination attempts generally aren't something their charges need to know about unless something goes horribly, horribly wrong."

"The Turks are watching him," Nanashi said. "And they're quite competent."

"Good. Then there's no need to tell the Demon, is there?"

Nanashi stared at her for a moment before breaking into soft chuckles. "No, my lady... There's not."

"Excellent," Seishi said with a deep sigh, and looked at Tsukiko. "Help me stand. All this scheming is making me tired."

"Yes, my lady," Tsukiko said, scooting forward.

"I'll get started on the preparations right away," Nanashi said, rising to her feet. "I'll report back when all is done, my lady."

"Very good. I will see you later then, Nanashi."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I like Seishi... She's mean and crusty and still very smart... I'm particularly proud of her character design too (it's in the 'mature' section of my gallery), though I need to draw her with the bandages on. :D Yay, intrigue. On with the show!

/\/\/\/\/\


	80. Chapter 73

Put Your Lights On

4.10.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Seventy-Three

/\/\/\/\/\

Lord Godo's people had been scrupulously polite, but Sephiroth could feel his daughter wilting under every glance that was directed her way. Personally he didn't see anything hostile in the looks people gave her, but just the fact that they made her want to run and hide made him angry. That emotion shining through his eyes made what was usually a long and boring greeting ceremony go by rather fast, and it wasn't long before Lord Godo's servants took them to their rooms.

"Why are we staying in the palace?" Toriko asked as they were shown to the guest chambers. Though the floors and walls were very Wutaiese, the décor was Continental and not really in a good way: the raised bed and the requisite tables looked out-of-place. Toriko's room was next door, accessible via a sliding screen, but for the moment she was sitting in her father's room, perched atop a briefcase that was sitting upright.

"As a goodwill gesture," Sephiroth said, loosening his collar. "Personally I'd rather stay in the Garrison like we did last time, but this is supposed to be showing the Wutaiese that we trust them—why else would we stick our most valuable members in a place where you can slit their throats?"

Toriko looked troubled. "Father..."

"What is it?"

"D...Do you think that would happen?"

"An assassination attempt?"

Toriko clenched her hands. "There's been one—no, two—already."

"Two?"

"The car, and the day that you announced me. Someone threw a knife at your head."

Sephiroth looked at her for a long time, not saying anything. Then, turning away, he said quietly, "They've actually been lessening over the years. There were a lot of people who were unhappy with me ascending as quick as I did. More than the Wutaiese, I had to watch for Continentals who thought I was dangerous or unworthy of my position. I've flushed most of the snakes out by now, but there are always a few in the shadows."

Toriko's voice was low and subdued. "Is that why you want me to learn combat so badly?"

"That's part of it," he said, glancing back at her. _"I do still want you to take over the military when I'm gone: I want you to be absolutely untouchable."_

Toriko looked down at the floor, her hair hiding forward to shade her face. _"Father... What's your weakness?"_

He looked at her, one brow raised. _"My weakness?"_

_"If I know what it is, I could protect it for you..."_

Sephiroth chuckled in her mind. _"You're still young—"_

_"But you haven't treated me like a child, really,"_ Toriko said, looking up at him. He went still as she added, _"There are times I feel more like an associate and a friend than your daughter."_

_"That's because I'm not good at this parenting stuff..." _Sephiroth thought, perturbed.

_"It's alright, Father," _Toriko thought, shaking her head. _"I want to be able to help you." _She paused for a moment before adding quietly, _"You came really close to dying in that car bomb, Father. The white phosphorous that was in that bomb ate your body, and you used up nearly every resource you had to replace your flesh as fast as you lost it. Yet you still acted as if nothing was wrong: you didn't even tell me what had happened. I just had a horrible feeling and came to the Building as quick as I could."_

"..."

_"You want me to learn fighting because there will be a time when you can't protect me. However, I will learn fighting because there will be a time when you can't protect yourself, and—"_

_"That's not your job."_

_"It's my duty. I'm your daughter."_

_"Children are not supposed to give their lives for their parents."_

Toriko shrugged. _"I never plan to have children, so there's not much else to live for."_

Sephiroth frowned, disturbed on a level he didn't quite understand. He fixated on what he could. _"Why don't you want to have children?"_

_"They seem to be a burden. Your movements are restricted because of me and let's not forget Mother gave me away. She seems to be really successful without me to look after, whereas the media's been hounding you."_

_"Where are you getting all these strange ideas?"_

_"I don't 'get' them from anywhere, Father. These are things I understand by myself."_

Sephiroth raked his hand through his hair, thoroughly confused. _"That's not what I meant..."_ It took him a few long moments before he managed to get his feelings into a form he felt secure communicating. _"Why do you perceive things with such dark undertones?"_

She looked at him directly. _"I suppose because of progenital sin."_

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed. _"Back to this, are we?"_

_"Not the way you think... I'm not blaming you, Father. I just think that because of the way I was conceived, I'm a little more able to see the real reasons behind things."_

Sephiroth wanted to argue. He knew there were some things out there, some words he could say, that would take Toriko out of the bleak mindset she'd somehow built herself into right under his nose. The fact that such ideas, such world-weary and cynic ideas, were percolating in his daughter's head made him ill. And yet...

_"She's right..."_ He thought with a sinking feeling in his chest. _"Everything she said is true..."_

He sighed and sat down on the bed, raking his hands through his hair again. Toriko looked at him for a moment, tilting her head, before hopping off the briefcase and turning toward the door.

"You look tired," she commented over her shoulder. "Get some rest, Father."

"Yeah..."

She left in a soft patter of footsteps and Sephiroth covered his face, wondering for the first time what kind of fey creature he'd brought into the world.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I'm trying to find ways to stress that though they look like a nice family, Toriko and Sephiroth are not normal people. Look at Sephiroth; you'd think that the first thing he'd want to know was why Toriko didn't feel like she had much to live for, but instead he focused on the secondary issue. That's not smart parenting! And we already know Tori has issues… They've both got maladaptive behavioral patterns that neither of them are aware of and hence, know how to correct. Because they talk so much to each other and rarely truly honestly with other people, they don't even know anything's wrong... It's a spiral of malfunction that will only get worse with time.

...And THAT is the most psychoanalytical/puffed-up artist statement I've ever made. If I do it again, someone kick me. I hate sounding full of myself unless I'm joking.

/\/\/\/\/\


	81. Chapter 74

Put Your Lights On

4.16.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Seventy-Four

/\/\/\/\/\

"Stand still, Reno! That's an order!"

"I reject your damn order! Leave me alone!"

Rude watched his boss and his 'little brother' square off on opposite sides of the room, Reno armed with his electro-mag rod and Tseng with a pair of scissors and a jar of pomade. Both of them were glaring daggers.

"You have to look presentable," Tseng said angrily.

"I'll switch places with you!" Reno offered. "I'll watch the brat and _you_ can sit in on the talks!"

"If you walk around with Toriko in town, people are going to assume you've kidnapped her or something—I can at least pass as her father as long as people don't recognize who she is." Tseng advanced, making Reno raise his nightstick in an undeniably threatening gesture. "I'm not going to cut your hair much. I'll just trim off the ends and slick the rest of it back—"

"Bullshit!" Reno grabbed his ponytail and shook it at Tseng, yelling, "You've been after me to cut this thing since day one—"

"_Trim _it, not _cut _it!"

"I'm not letting you anywhere near my head with scissors!" Reno bolted and ran to Rude, making the older man jump as the nightstick brushed against his leg—luckily, it was turned off. "Rude, help me!"

"He's on _my_ side," Tseng said, tacking across the room; Reno, sensing his movements, edged around to Rude's other side to keep out of his boss's sight. "Aren't you, Rude?"

"Rude, don't let him cut my hair!" Reno said desperately. "He's going to do something weird to it, I just know it!"

"I have pomade and scissors! What _would_ I do?"

"You could give me a Mohawk!"

"That would just be making things worse!" Tseng abruptly stopped and shook his head. "Wait a minute, what am I doing? Rude, hold him down!"

"Nooo!" Reno yelled, springing away.

There was the sharp slap of a sliding door being opened, and the three Turks turned as Rufus glared into the room.

"What is all the fucking noise?" He snarled menacingly.

"They're trying to cut my hair!" Reno said before Tseng or Rude could get a word in.

Rufus blinked, his temper vanishing. "...what?"

"He looks like a hooligan," Tseng said in an aggrieved tone of voice. "Even if he irons his suit and tucks in his shirt and takes off his sunglasses, he still looks like a gangster. You don't need that sitting next to you at the talks tomorrow!"

"What does it matter what he looks like?" Rufus asked, frowning. "We've got the upper hand here. Hell, we could all walk in naked and nothing would happen."

"So this means you're telling them not to cut my hair?" Reno asked eagerly.

Rufus looked him up and down. "Actually... Tseng, what were you planning to do to him?"

"I was going to trim the split ends and slick it out of his face," Tseng said, holding up the respective tools of the trade. "Nothing permanent and nothing different."

"Then why is he objecting so much?"

"What!" Reno yelped, looking horrified.

"Thank you, Mr. Vice President," Tseng said, looking and sounding smug. Talking towards Reno, he said soothingly, "This won't take long, Reno—now stand still..."

Reno looked like he was about to bolt again, but Rude grabbed him by the arms before he could move and forced him to sit on the floor. Reno whimpered, whining a high-pitched and undulating tone in the back of his throat that sounded exactly like a frightened puppy.

"There, there," Rufus said, walking over and petting Reno on the head like he would have for said puppy. "Don't worry, it'll all be over soon."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Reno asked miserably.

"I'm a Shin-Ra—of course we enjoy the suffering of others."

"Did I hear suffering?"

The Turks and Rufus looked up to see Sephiroth standing in the doorway, an extremely perplexed (for him) look on his face.

"Sir!" Reno yelled, his eyes suddenly sparkling with hope. "They're trying to cut my hair! You won't let them, will you? I mean..." His eyes dropped from Sephiroth's face to his waist-length tresses. "Uh..."

Sephiroth followed Reno's eyes and picked up a lock of his hair, examining it for a long moment. Then, approaching the Turk/Rufus huddle on the floor, he knelt in front of Reno and said, "Tseng... Give me the scissors."

"Yes sir," Tseng said solemnly.

Reno looked horrified and Rude wondered if the honor of cutting Reno's coveted ponytail would go to the General—if so, what would Sephiroth do it? Feather it? Cut it off altogether? Shave Reno's head?

"_Now _that _would be pretty damn funny..."_

Reno tried to push away as Tseng passed the scissors to Sephiroth. Rufus continued to pet Reno's hair and say pseudo-comforting things. Sephiroth took the scissors...

And began trimming his own hair.

"Good thinking in bringing these, Tseng," Sephiroth said as everyone blinked at him. "I left mine at home and the split ends are driving me nuts."

"_How do you tell with silver hair if you have split ends or not?" _Rude wondered.

With his customary efficiency, Sephiroth finished trimming his hair in a few moments and passed the scissors back to Tseng, brushing strands of silver off his lap with his other hand.

"Carry on," he said, rising to his feet and walking out.

"Siiiiir!" Reno wailed piteously. "Help meeeeeee!"

"Quit being dramatic," Sephiroth said from the hall. "Your hair will grow back."

"It won't!" Reno shouted back, sounding genuinely upset. "Do you have any idea how long it took to grow it out this long? Years, General! Years!"

"If you trim it more often, it grows faster."

Reno stopped struggling. "Really?"

Sephiroth leaned back in the room, his hair falling behind him like a backdrop. "Reno, I used to try to keep my hair short. I trimmed it almost every week. _Now _look at it."

Reno looked. So did everyone else. Sephiroth let them stare for a moment before walking back into the hall.

"I've changed my mind," Reno said, looking at Tseng. "Do whatever you want to it."

"Excellent," Tseng said with a small, evil grin. "Now... Don't move..."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Yay, the return of ridiculousness. It'll get serious soon enough, anyway.

I have a picture on dA of what Reno looks like once Tseng's finished with him. And no, the answer is not 'unhappy', though I assure you he is feeling that way.

/\/\/\/\/\


	82. Chapter 75

Put Your Lights On

4.16.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Seventy-Five

/\/\/\/\/\

Toriko hadn't planned to leave Lord Godo's palace, but the suspicious glances that even the friendliest of retainers kept shooting her made her uncomfortable. Moreover, since the Turk watching her was Tseng, she could sense him becoming nettled from the looks too and for once she could sympathize. What was a pair of _ainoko_ to do in the high seat of traditional bloodlines?

Go, of course. As Toriko walked the streets of Wutai proper with Tseng at her side, she idly wondered if Sephiroth had planned it this way, sticking them in a mutually uncomfortable position to build understanding between them.

_"Somehow I doubt it... Father doesn't care if people don't like each other as long as it doesn't interfere with the way they work."_

It had, however, been Sephiroth's suggestion that the two of them procure Wutaiese clothing for their excursions, and so the two of them walked down the street in typical Wutaiese wear. It was interesting what a costume change could do because no one even looked at them twice as they walked down the street in kimono and hakama. Though the war had thinned the number of men on the streets, there were still enough people that Toriko made herself hold Tseng's hand so as not to get lost, as well to promote the 'father-daughter' image the two of them were counting on for the least amount of molestation.

"So what would you like to do?" Tseng asked, looking down at her.

Toriko shrugged. "I don't know. Last time I was here, it was better not to be around this many people."

Tseng nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Do you want to look at the street shops?"

"The market's too noisy for me."

"You say this after Midgar?"

Toriko chuckled despite herself. "...Alright, it's not like we have anything better to do."

"Careful," Tseng said, a slight smile on his lips. "Keep talking like that and people will realize you're not really mine."

"I'll keep that in mind...Dad."

That made Tseng chuckle as they wound their way toward the market sector of the capital. Here the streets were even more crowded and the air was filled with the cries of bellowing vendors and screeching bargain-hunters. The noise was deafening, though Tseng had been right—after Midgar, it wasn't anywhere near as bad as Toriko had thought it would be.

A flash of something bright caught her eye and Toriko turned to see a pair of maiko gliding through the thoroughfare, their beautifully colored silks and serene beauty making every head turn. Seeing their silken finery made Toriko wonder about Seishi.

"Hey, Tse—Dad," Toriko said, watching the maiko. "Can we visit the Blue Lotus?"

"That's no place for a young lady."

"So? I want to see...my aunt."

"It may be that your aunt is no longer there," Tseng said, the tone of his voice showing he know of whom she spoke.

"I know she's alive... Nanashi brings me things from her." Toriko looked up at him. "Besides, the Blue Lotus that you're thinking of no longer exists, except as the name of a larger and more expensive establishment."

Tseng frowned. "Surely you don't mean the one your father and the rest of the dignitaries are visiting later?"

Toriko blinked. "...what?"

"The next two nights, the Shin-Ra people and Lord Godo's will be going to one Blue Lotus for entertainment," Tseng said, his frown deepening. "Are you telling me that your aunt is there?"

Toriko looked down at the ground. "It..." She said slowly. "It makes sense. The gifts she sends me are quite expensive, and she would only be able to afford them if she were wealthy... Like the proprietress of such a place."

"_I knew she was well off, but Nanashi never told me exactly what she did... And every time I asked, she just said it was none of my business... I think I can see why. After all, she's _serving _that man again..._

"_That man?"_

Toriko rapped her head with her knuckles, earning her a frown from Tseng. It had been months since her mother's memories had imposed on her, something she'd been glad for, but if she were starting to think of Sephiroth as 'That Man' instead of 'Father'... What was next, 'The Demon'? 'That Raping Bastard'?

"_Get out of my head, Mother," _Toriko thought, pushing away the wisps of her mother's hatred as far as she could. They would make her life much too complicated, especially if she decided to see Seishi.

"_She told me not to come, but I want to see her anyway... If she gets angry, I'll just say it's That Man's influence in me."_ Toriko's mouth twisted in a wry smile. _"Oh, she'd love that... I wonder if she'd hit me?"_

Tseng suddenly jerked and Toriko had just enough time to look at him strangely before he shot out and grabbed a scruffy boy by the back of his torn robe, dragging the thin boy toward him. Toriko saw Tseng's dark brown wallet clutched in and immediately yanked out of the boy's hand.

"Don't hit him," Toriko said at once, remembering Cloud and Junon.

Tseng had been raising his free hand apparently to do such a thing, but he paused and looked at Toriko with an arched brow, saying, "What else do you do with a thief?"

"If he took your wallet, then that means he has more need of the money than you do," Toriko said, looking up at Tseng. "Just give him some and let him go."

"And be known as an easy mark? I don't think so."

"Dad, have you ever known what it's like to be that hungry?"

Tseng opened his mouth to say something, but he paused for a second, a considering look in his dark gray eyes. From his expression, Toriko knew he was remembering when he had found her five years ago, as dirty and thin as the child he was holding now. With a sigh, Tseng put the boy down and opened his wallet.

"Here," he said, giving the boy a ten-gil note: the street urchin stared at it in complete incomprehension, shaking in silent terror. Yes, it was indeed terror. Toriko looked at the boy, remembering a time long ago when someone too had tried to give her something, and she had tried and tried to convince herself that as soon as she took it, they wouldn't take it away. After all, everyone knew there were things that were just too good to be true.

So Toriko took the money out of Tseng's hand, picked up the boy's, and placed it in his palm, curling his fingers around the paper. She ignored the way he flinched when she touched him, tried not to hurt with memory when she felt the looseness of his underfed skin, the nearness of his bird-frail bones, and instead gave him a smile.

"You need to save that," she said softly. "Keep saving, and you can buy your way out of this mess. It happens more than you think."

The boy—he was older than her, Toriko saw now with eyes that were becoming reaccustomed to the gauntness of the street—nodded dumbly and clutched the money tightly in both hands. Awkwardly, quickly, he bowed to both Tseng and Toriko before taking off down the street. Toriko looked at Tseng and found him studying her with a strange light in his eyes.

"What?" She asked, frowning.

"Nothing," he said, tucking his wallet into a more secure place. "Where do you want to go next?"

Toriko scowled. "Don't insult me by—"

"Language, daughter," Tseng said mildly, and Toriko huffed as she stodgily took his hand and resumed their game.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Don't really know what to say about this chapter, really... So please tell me what you think of it:D See you later...

/\/\/\/\/\


	83. Chapter 76

Put Your Lights On

4.27.06

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

Chapter Seventy-Six

"I want to go to the Blue Lotus."

"No."

Yuffie immediately threw herself on the floor and grabbed her father's leg, making the biggest puppy eyes she could. She saw him flinch; oh, she was good. Then again, she'd have to be. She'd practiced in front of the mirror long enough.

"Pleeeeeease?" She said as winsomely as she could. "I love seeing dancing, Daddy, and the dancers at the Lotus are the best in the world! Can I see them? Please?"

"You see them at festivals," Godo said, leaning down and prying off his leg. "At the Lotus, it's going to be a lot of grownups talking about nothing that interesting. You'd be very bored. Besides, we're going to be out late."

"So?" Yuffie jumped up, grabbing Godo's sleeve. "I can stay up!"

"No."

"Pleeeease?"

"No. Let go of my sleeve, Yuffie, I have to get dressed."

"Pleeeeeeeeease?"

"No!"

Yuffie took a deep breath and pitched her voice into the ultrasonic, ever-so-slightly-flat range that always made Godo's eyes cross whenever she used it. "PLEEEEEEEAAAAAAAASEEEE?"

"NO!" Godo bellowed, whipping around and glaring: his face was bright red, and there was a vein pulsating just beyond the border of his receding hairline. "No means NO, Yuffie!"

Yuffie scowled. Godo lost his temper quite often, so the bellowing was not as frightening as it would have been even a year ago. Besides, even at age nine, Yuffie did a lot of bellowing—screaming—herself. "...I bet you're gonna mess with the concubines."

"Concubines stay in the palace, Yuffie."

"The other ones, then."

"Courtesans aren't available at the Blue Lotus."

Yuffie's scowl deepened and she shook her father's sleeve. "Why can't I come?"

"Because you are a noisy and loudmouthed child," Godo said testily. "And quite impudent as well. Do you want to be grounded?"

Yuffie glared. "...no."

"Then stop arguing with me." In a more conciliatory tone, Godo said, "Why don't you play with some of the other children?"

"They're boring," Yuffie pronounced with all of a child's firm definition.

"Well, what about Toriko?"

"Who?"

"General Shin-Ra's daughter."

Yuffie had to think for a moment before the title suddenly clicked. With a screech, she yelped, "You want me to play with the Demonsp—"

Godo clapped his hand over her mouth and glared at her severely. In a low voice he said, "You do _not_ use that name while the dignitaries are here." When Yuffie nodded, Godo cautiously dropped his hand and said, "I've met her a few times. She seems like a nice, quiet girl—"

"Great, even more boring."

Godo frowned. "She also seems quite lonely."

Yuffie shrugged. "So? It's not my problem."

Godo sighed and looked at his daughter, rubbing his mouth. Somewhere along the way when he'd tried to raise her after his wife's untimely death two years ago, he'd forgotten to teach her how to care about other people, how to empathize. Selfishness was not necessarily a bad thing, but when you decided not to care before you even knew...

"What am I going to do with you, Yuffie?"

"I don't know," Yuffie said with a shrug. "Maybe you can sell me to the circus or something."

"Child, don't tempt me." Godo rubbed his short, crisp beard. "Well, one thing's for certain: you're not going to the Lotus. Even on a good day, it's not a place for children."

"Why not?"

"Dancers and geisha do not have the best reputation," Godo tried to explain, though the look of incomprehension in Yuffie's eyes was not encouraging. "And you could hear and learn things that you're not ready to know yet."

"Like what?"

"Like...things. I'll tell you when you're older."

Yuffie stamped her foot. "No fair! I never get to do anything fun."

"Well, figure something out. Something non-destructive and preferably peaceful."

Yuffie stuck her tongue out at him and stomped down the hall, clearly muttering insults under her breath. Godo put his cheeks in his hands and pulled down, trying to draw the stress off his face. As he looked up at the ceiling, he couldn't help but wonder how the Demon disciplined his child.

_"No doubt more effectively than I can discipline mine..."_

The unwelcome sound of screaming suddenly reached Godo's ears. It was Yuffie-screaming, which made it doubly worrisome, and wondering/dreading what his child had done this time, Godo ran quickly toward the source of the sound, socked feet thumping over the floors. To his surprise, he saw the Demon's daughter standing in the courtyard, arms folded and with a coolly amused look on her face, as Yuffie floundered in the koi pond.

"I hate you!" Yuffie screamed.

"Well, you haven't made that favorable of an impression either," Toriko returned with a smirk.

"What's going on?" The Demon said, stepping into the courtyard from the door across from Godo's.

"Daddy!" Yuffie screeched, still flailing. "She pushed me in the pond!"

"I did not push," Toriko said mildly. "You had a tantrum and slipped on the rocks by the pool. I'll admit I didn't help you out and maybe I even laughed a little, but I certainly didn't push you."

The girl's dry manner made Yuffie so red in the face that Godo thought she was about to explode. "This is all your fault!" She yelled.

"How so?" The Demon asked, coming to stand behind his daughter. Godo was surprised at the disparity in their heights: Toriko's chin was just a few inches above the man's waist, and his black-gloved hands entirely enfolded her shoulders.

"She was in my garden!"

Godo couldn't decide if he should be relieved or worried that Yuffie showed no fear in front of the man who, years ago, had given nearly everyone in Wutai nightmares, himself included.

"Yuffie, this courtyard belongs to everyone," He said, frowning.

Yuffie jumped into Wutaiese. At least the girl had _some_ propriety. "Even foreigners?"

"Yes, even foreigners. Now get out of the water. You look ridiculous."

Yuffie shot him a look of pure venom. No doubt she hated him for not immediately taking her side, for not jumping into the water and pulling her out: well, too bad. Fathers—not good ones—could afford to be so silly, but Godo was Lord of Wutai and had to maintain a certain distance even in personal matters.

"Lord Godo," Toriko said, turning to face him and putting her hands on her thighs. "Please forgive me; I didn't know I was doing anything wrong..."

He waved at her as she bowed. "No need for that; you haven't done anything."

"Oh sure, take _her_ side," Yuffie growled in a voice an ogre would have envied. Her words were almost lost in the sound of dripping water as she hauled herself out of the pond and began to wipe herself off, glaring at Toriko all the while.

The Demon looked at his daughter with an unreadable expression in his veiled eyes and at once Toriko turned to Yuffie, bowing deeply. "Princess," Toriko said politely. "I'm sorry if my nonexistent bad behavior has offended you. It wasn't my intention to make you lose your already flyaway temper. If I'm ever around when you feel like taking your anger out on an innocent bystander, I apologize for the distress my presence may cause you."

Godo snorted before he could stop himself and silently applauded one of the most insincere apologies he had ever heard in his life. The Demon did not look pleased, however, and his hands began to tighten noticeably on Toriko's shoulders.

"That being said," Toriko said in a slightly strangled tone: Godo could see her face paling as her father continued to apply pressure. "I hope we can be friends after this."

Yuffie made a rude face. Godo decided it was time to step in.

"Yuffie!" He smacked her upside the head, making her yelp. "That is very rude!"

"Oh so what?" Yuffie yelled, and ran off, water and swearwords spraying everywhere. Godo could feel his face turning bright red at her incredible...unbelievable... There was just no word for how _stupid_ her behavior had just been.

_"Knowing Yuffie, she probably _did _start whatever happened here, and now she's even made me look like a bad parent in front of the Demon..."_

"Our daughters are handfuls," the Demon commented blandly. When Godo looked at him in confusion, the silver-haired man looked down at Toriko and said, "Tori-chan enjoys baiting others a little too much."

"What else does one do when people gasp like fish?" Toriko asked innocently. "It would be cruel not to put something in their mouths."

"What exactly happened?" Godo asked, frowning.

Toriko shrugged. "I was admiring the koi pond when the Princess came out in a foul temper. She immediately told me to leave in quite insulting tones, which I would have done anyway if not for her language. I regret to say that I made unfavorable comments on her unladylike conduct, which caused her such irritation that she began jumping up and down and screaming. It was then that her foot slipped on a mossy stone and she fell into the fishpond."

Concise, intelligent, honest—yet there was a curious coldness in Toriko that sent inexplicable chills down Godo's spine. The Demon looked at his daughter and said, "Is that all?"

"Yes, Father."

He released her shoulders; Godo wondered if the girl would have hand-shaped bruises on them because, after all, the Demon's strength was legendary. He patted her on the head and said, "Go have fun, then."

"Yes, Father," she said, and left the courtyard in a quiet pat of footsteps. As she stepped into the hall and shut the screen door behind her, the Demon shook a strand of hair out of his eyes and looked at Godo. For a moment, Godo wondered what the man was going to say: some candid admission about his daughter? Asking for advice? Godo nearly laughed at himself, especially when the Demon just nodded and left the courtyard, silently as a shadow despite his striking silver appearance. Godo turned to go as well, wondering if the man would be just as taciturn when they went to the Blue Lotus later that night.

Author's note:

Yuffie is such a brat in this. I deliberately made her a giant brat. A HUGE brat. I hope that came through because after all, she's only nine years old. She's going to be evil pretty much until AVALANCHE shows up and exerts some positive influence in her life. I'm not saying that Godo's a bad parent, but honestly, as a Princess of Wutai, how many people are there to discipline her? At least with AVALANCHE, she's around strong adult figures 24/7. In Wutai, she'd just run away and whack monsters/steal materia/do something more interesting.

No PYLO related pictures, but I wonder why there's no such thing as a ninja dressphere in FFX-2... I mean, they have thief and samurai, but ninja would be effing sweet. So I have my FFX OC in a ninja-ish dressphere on dA for your viewing pleasure. Cheers!


	84. Chapter 77

Put Your Lights On

4.27.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Seventy-Seven

/\/\/\/\/\

Sephiroth looked up at the Blue Lotus, peripherally aware of Rufus getting out of the chocobo-drawn cart behind him. It was evening of the third day of the peace conference, and Godo was taking them out to Wutai's finest entertainment establishment for an evening of relaxation. Since they were to go twice, Sephiroth hoped the place was interesting.

_"Especially considering I'm not allowed to wench..." _He thought with mixed irritation and amusement. _"Toriko wouldn't say anything, but I know she's going to know... And it would be as good as having her stand in the damn doorway."_

The mental image just absolutely killed any stirrings of sexual desire. Sephiroth wondered why he had never heard of children as an effective castration method as he heard Rufus straighten his white duster and look around.

"Beautiful architecture," the young man commented, looking at Lord Godo; he had dismounted first.

"Yes, the proprietress had it restored," Lord Godo said, folding his hands into his sleeves. As he had been for every day of the peace conference, he was in richly embroidered silk robes that looked more striking and actually a great deal more comfortable than the suits the Continentals were wearing. Sephiroth personally missed his coat. "She's reputed to be a traditional woman, though not in all aspects..."

"Oh, the place is owned by a woman?" Rufus asked, mildly surprised. As they approached the building, he said, "I'd thought considering the kind of establishment..."

"Ah, sir..." Derricks coughed delicately. He was a thin, retiring man who was in charge of the Wutai branch of Shin-Ra. Sephiroth hadn't had much experience with him, but since Rufus hadn't expressed any displeasure Sephiroth assumed the man was doing his job right. "The Blue Lotus isn't a, mm..."

"Oh, I know." Rufus said mildly, and Sephiroth could fell from his tone and expression that he did. "It's not _that_ kind of establishment. Nonetheless, it does have a bit of the 'exploitation of women' spirit, doesn't it?"

Sephiroth almost rolled his eyes and he saw Godo suppress a twitch of irritation: it was something he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been living with Toriko, that little master of blanking her expressions. _"Rufus," _Sephiroth thought at the young man, though he knew Rufus couldn't hear. _"Why are you antagonizing our hosts?"_

"Not really." Surprisingly, the answer came from Tseng. He and Rude were along for security purposes; Reno was watching Toriko since it was too late for her to wander the streets, and Reno would be able to catch her the quickest if she decided to be difficult. Straightening his shirt cuffs, Tseng added, "The geisha and dancing girls of Wutai have historically been the world's first respectable working women, and it's actually encouraging that a pleasure house such as this is in the hands of a woman—she would know how to take care them better."

Rufus frowned, apparently not quite understanding, but he was politic enough to laugh and admit it, which soothed the Wutaiese feathers. That made Sephiroth breathe a little easier because although it wasn't that Shin-Ra technically had to keep the Wutaiese happy, it would just make things easier in the long run. Sephiroth liked fighting, but only if it involved swords. Politic wrangling for propriety's sake made his head hurt.

As soon as the men stepped into the Blue Lotus, a bevy of beautiful young ladies immediately descended on them like a storm of flowers and bemused, Sephiroth found two charming girls suddenly clinging onto his arms with expressions of completely unguarded adoration.

"These girls must not know who I am..." was the first thing that went through Sephiroth's mind.

"Oh my," one of them fluttered. "It was never made mention of how handsome how you are!"

"It's such an honor, General Shin-Ra!" The other cooed.

"Okay, so they do know." Sephiroth mentally scratched his head before shrugging and thinking, "They must be faking."

Glancing around, Sephiroth noticed that his peers were similarly beset. Before he could laugh at the sight of Lord Godo's two stuffy vassals turning to putty in their girls' delicate hands, Sephiroth was steered over to a divan and almost forcefully seated. There was no real way to remain standing once one girl firmly adjusted the couch into the back of his knees and the other immediately made herself comfortable in his lap. It was a testament to their gracefulness and skill that Sephiroth did not find this violation of personal space offensive: instead he was amused and even a little flattered.

"These girls are very good..." he heard Toriko thinking. "I could learn from them."

That threw a metaphorical bucket of cold water into Sephiroth's lap and he untangled the girl's arms from around his neck; she had twined them there when she sat in his lap. The girl immediately slid off his lap and pouted, her large gray eyes becoming doleful.

"Am I too forward?" She asked, looking and sounding genuinely upset.

"No, no," Sephiroth said, shaking his head. "It's just that, ah... Well... I feel like my daughter's watching me."

"Does she do that often?" The other girl asked humorously, and Sephiroth turned to see her leaning on the armrest, wrists crossed like a cat's: this put the normally demure V of her kimono right in front of his eyes, and Sephiroth was momentarily distracted by the deepening shadow it so attractively framed. Toriko's chuckle helped bring him back to earth.

"Well, no, but it's just that when you have a child..."

"It's hard to stop thinking about them," the second girl agreed, nodding. "Especially when they're not with you, right?"

"Yes, exactly," Sephiroth said, nodding. Privately he realized there was something very wrong with him if he was talking with a lovely girl about parenting, of all things, but what else could he do?

"Oh, Father..." Toriko was giggling by now, as well as fully awake. "You don't have to be so conscious. If you decide you really want to enjoy yourself, I can't stop you."

"If that's the case, why do you keep talking to me? You're making it worse."

"I just think you should know what my stance on this situation is..." Toriko said, sounding like she was taking unholy amusement in his discomfort. "If you want to have sex, because I know men have urges..." Sephiroth felt his veins turn to liquid nitrogen. "Go right ahead, Father—just make sure you don't make me any siblings, alright? The age gap would be very awkward."

"I'm sorry," he said, covering his face. "I'm just not very...um...ah..."

He could almost feel the girls exchanging a glance; no doubt they were used to double-teaming a difficult customer like him. At once he was aware of two warm bodies flanking his and he looked up at once, not sure why he was startled to find the two girls sitting very close to him.

"You seem really uncomfortable," the second girl said honestly. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

"Uh..."

"Let me give you a massage while you're thinking about it," the first girl said, and at once there were small, strong hands on his shoulders, expertly digging into knots of tension he didn't even know existed. Sephiroth stiffened in surprise before an overwhelming feeling of relief suddenly swept over him.

"Some tea?" The second girl asked as a serving girl—Sephiroth jumped slightly when he noticed the girl was barely older than Toriko—brought out a lacquered tray of drinks and small foods that could be eaten with one's bare hands. The significance of that was not lost on Sephiroth, who immediately noticed that not a few of his peers were already being hand-fed by their attending girls.

"Yes, please," Sephiroth said, also noticing how the girl had not offered sake: did they know of a SOLDIER'S intolerance to alcohol? It wasn't exactly private knowledge, but not something widely known in Wutai either... In any case, the consideration was nice and the tea was almost as good as his coffee back home.

The evening passed by pleasantly with a presentation of all that the Blue Lotus had to offer: there were multiple types of dancing, instrument-playing, and even some singing. A few times during the night, though, Sephiroth found himself disturbed by things he knew wouldn't have bothered him before parenting Toriko. For example, one of the koto players looked to be a few years shy of her teens and the silent girls who replaced empty teapots and trays of dainties were similarly underaged. Sephiroth couldn't see Seishi as the kind of woman who exploited young girls—Toriko would have a lot more issues if she had—but why she would them made him wonder what else she did too. Did she traffic drugs? Did she run a prostitution ring? Was she going to try to kill him, using these demure children as a smokescreen? When the entertainment ended around midnight, Sephiroth was both relieved and disappointed. It was with similarly mixed feelings that he realized he was going to come back the next night.

"Well, at least I know I'm not going to be bored."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Props to my mom for calling me at 10.30 at night (I was already conked out; very tired) to inform me of a typo in the last chapter. The way I'd inadvertently written it, Godo was slapping Yuffie's hand over his mouth. Funny image, but so not what was supposed to happen. Godo is giving me a bushy-browed "WTF?" look right now.

We are soon reaching what I'd consider the meat of the Wutai arc: not the assassination, that was just something I threw in for the action plotline, but something quite a bit more personal. Wait for it, you'll know what I mean.

And the ninja picture is up for real this time. Sorry about that.

And my site! Look at my site! It's spiffy… I put non-fanart art on it as well as short stories and stuff. It is COOL. :D I am very proud of myself, since I did most of the reformatting today and know next to nothing about HTML. Yay learning.

/\/\/\/\/\


	85. Chapter 78

Put Your Lights On

5.4.06

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

Chapter Seventy-Eight

It had been easy to get away from Reno, though not entirely good for her karma: Toriko made a note to apologize to the redhaired Turk as soon as he recovered from the punches she'd given him in the back of the head. Currently he was trussed up like a pig for slaughter and stuffed into a closet, deeply unconscious and likely to remain that way for at least three hours. Nanashi's training was very useful; aside from being used to KO one of the premier warriors of the world, it allowed her slip out of Lord Godo's palace and make it to the Blue Lotus with no trouble at all. Eschewing the rooftops for the deeper shadows of Wutai's back alleys, Toriko felt a strange sort of nostalgia as she darted silently through the streets.

_"Mother usually played the koto when it was night, so we moved around in the evening a lot, playing in small restaurants for a pittance and trying not to attract attention... It worked most of the time, but I remember us being mugged at least once._

_"If anyone tries to mug _ME _tonight, they've got another thing coming!"_

Toriko smiled. The realization that she would be able to at least put up a good fight for any idiot who tried to jump her made her smile. She modestly did not allow herself to think that she would be able to, without a drop of doubt, defeat anyone. Or pound them into the dirt. Or make them wish they'd never been born.

_"I am learning so many Meryl-ish turns of phrase..."_

The new Blue Lotus was in a completely unfamiliar section of town, but Toriko knew precisely where to go: her father was there, after all, and even when he wasn't talking to her she was still aware of his presence. Using that like a beacon, Toriko made it to the Blue Lotus without trouble, though she certainly didn't recognize the place at first glance. In the clear moonlight, the blue lacquer that covered the entire building looked like deepest black, highlighted starkly with slivers of bright silver. A high wall, at least twenty feet high and topped with blue tile, surrounded the rather large compound and though it looked more decorative than functional, it was still a barrier Toriko had not anticipated. She stood at the foot of the wall for a moment, looking up at the top of it and thinking.

_"I probably could... No, I know I can jump onto it. The only problem is that I'm not supposed to be able to, and if someone on the other side sees me..._

_"Still, I did not come all this way to be stopped by a stupid wall."_

Crouching, Toriko focused on the place she wanted to land before springing lightly into the air. She timed it perfectly; just touching the top of the wall at the apex of her jump, she landed as lightly as a cat, and hopped down just as quietly. Landing with a soft 'tmp' in the grass, Toriko glanced around to make sure she hadn't been seen.

Inside the Blue Lotus wall was an elaborately landscaped garden, lushly shaded with trees selected so there were flowers in every season but winter and dark green peony bushes that wafted a gentle perfume into the night air. Slate flagstones wound in careful Zen paths to accentuate the beauty of the garden, leading at last to a large pond fed by one of Wutai's many streams. Shaded heavily and nestled against the far wall was a small house, almost shrine-sized, and instinctively Toriko knew that was where her mother would be.

_"Mother prefers to work from the shadows..."_

She rose, turning toward the house, and stopped as she felt a sudden prickle at her side. Without turning to look, Toriko knew there was a person watching her and moreover, that s/he had hostile intent. Toriko mouthed a curse and curled her hands into fists.

"Just what do you think you're going?" Snapped a low, familiar voice.

Toriko blinked and turned, bobbing her head respectfully as Nanashi stepped out of the shadows. Toriko almost stared; her sensei was garbed elegantly as a senior geisha, a silk-and-brocade dream of gold and black. All the makeup in the world, however, couldn't soften the fury in her eyes.

"You were expressly ordered to stay away," Nanashi said, striding—as quickly as a woman in a tight kimono could stride, anyway—over to Toriko. "And what do you do instead?"

"I want to see my mother," Toriko said, dropping her gaze—and then looking at Nanashi through her lashes, resentful and rebellious. "And I don't care if she ordered me to stay away. I made it here without detection and no trouble at all."

"Your father wouldn't have left you unattended, and I saw Rude and Tseng in the Lotus's main room. What did you do to the redhaired one?"

"I made him sleep."

"You made him sleep?"

Toriko demonstrated the punches she had used on Reno in the air and she saw Nanashi look surprised—only for a moment, though, because at once she reached out with one beautifully manicured hand and whacked Toriko smartly upside the head.

"You idiot!" She snapped at once—Nanashi had never been too delicate with her admonitions. "Your father will be furious with you!"

"It's not the first time I've injured Reno. Better I confine all my violent activities to a single Turk rather than kicking all of them."

That comment earned Toriko another slap upside the head. "Impudent child! Go back to the palace at once!"

"No," Toriko said, and immediately thought of something. Quickly she looked Nanashi up and down, confirming her guess.

"What are you thinking?"

"...that you can't move very fast in a kimono, Sensei."

And with that, Toriko dashed off across the gardens, beelining for Seishi's small house in the shadows. With her acute ears Toriko heard Nanashi swearing and she risked a glance over her shoulder to see Nanashi yanking her stiff kimono to her knees and starting to run. That was alarming, but only until Toriko remembered that Nanashi hadn't beaten her in a footrace yet.

Toriko skirted the pond and jumped onto the veranda, grabbing the door and throwing it aside. At once she nearly went to her knees, overwhelmed by the intensity of a smell that she'd thought she'd remembered clearly and gotten used to until then.

_"Rotting flesh... New grass... Rain... Metal—no, blood... And fire too? Mother must be trying to burn the smell away..."_

"Who's there?" A young girl's voice demanded, and Toriko narrowed her eyes as a girl her own age—smaller, but prettier—stepped into the room. The girl frowned, annoyed rather than alarmed. "Who are you?"

"I'm your mistress's daughter," Toriko said, and the girl stared. "Where is my mother?"

"She's, uh..." The girl was clearly taken aback, though whether by Toriko's identity or brusque manner was debatable. "She's sleeping."

Toriko had a strong impression the girl was lying. "She's refused to see me, hasn't she?"

"Umm..."

Toriko stepped into the dark room and shut the door behind her, peripherally aware of Nanashi coming closer—she had a few more seconds before her sensei jumped in and hauled her out on her ear. Toriko hoped that wouldn't happen, because it would be pity for Nanashi's lovely black kimono to become ruined with waterstains once she threw her into the pond.

_"I'm seeing my mother no matter what!"_

"Listen up, you," Toriko said, hardening her voice and syntax; it was a tactic she had picked up from Sephiroth, one that had the effect of immediately getting peoples' attention. "I'm your mistress's daughter, which means you obey me right after her. I'm also the Demon's daughter, so do you really want to find out what happens to people who annoy me?"

The veiled threat made the girl pale, but she stiffened and said, "Lady Seishi does not want to be disturbed under any circumstances. I'm sorry, but you can't see her right now."

Toriko cracked her knuckles and took a step forward. The girl took a step back. "I'm feeling some really Demonic urges, you know..."

At once there was the sound of a sliding door slapping open, but it did not come from Toriko's back. The green-eyed girl glanced to her right and turned completely around as a heavily shadowed, heavily scented figure glared powerfully at her.

"Who taught you to speak like that?" Rasped a voice straight from Toriko's memories.

"The one you sent me to, Mother," Toriko said. At once she was aware that her voice had softened, becoming gentler and higher; more ladylike, to be precise. Toriko knelt and bowed deeply, touching her forehead to the floor. "Forgive me for disobeying your command."

The pond-facing screen door was flung open and Toriko peeked over her hand to see Nanashi, red-faced with anger, step into the small house.

"You insolent little—" Nanashi stopped, seeing Seishi. "Oh, my lady."

Seishi made an impatient gesture with her right hand; it was bandaged up to her fingers and Toriko could see the blue-gray veins of Seishi's disease spidering down each long digit. It hadn't yet touched her hands when Toriko had left, but of course that had been seven years ago.

_"Mother's entire body must be infected now..."_

"Tsukiko, Nanashi, leave us," Seishi said, sounding inexplicably tired. "And Tori, stand up."

"Yes, my lady," Tsukiko and Nanashi said in unison. Toriko simply got to her feet, regarding her mother through hooded eyes. To her surprise, she realized that Seishi was almost as tall as Sephiroth.

_"I don't think there's even a hand's difference between them... Maybe a couple of fingers, a few inches...? Does that mean I'll be tall too?"_

As Nanashi and Tsukiko went away, Seishi sighed deeply and took a few halting steps forward. At once, the soft thump-THUMP-thump of her three-beat-stride made something in Toriko's heart twist and automatically she stepped forward, holding her arms out. Seishi smiled briefly, the amused/bitter look Toriko remembered so well, and put her free hand on Toriko's shoulder.

"You're getting a bit tall to use as a convenient armrest," Seishi said, chuckling like a crow. "I suppose that means you're eating well..."

"I am," Toriko said, matching her steps with her mother's. Without having to ask, she knew Seishi wanted to sit and look at the pond; it would be a safe, distracting thing to look at while the two of them talked. Toriko was inclined to agree.

_"I wanted to see her, but I didn't really think beyond that... What do I say?"_

"Does that man treat you kindly?" Seishi asked, looking down at her from the corner of her good eye.

"He treats me...fairly..." Toriko said slowly. "And then kindly, most of the time. He's still trying to figure out how to be a parent."

"He didn't learn in all this time?"

With a slight jump, Toriko realized her mother did not know—and in fact, probably should never know—about her time with Hojo. At once Toriko swore never to reveal that information and began constructing a series of lies. "Well, he only found me recently..."

"Then where were you for five years?"

"The men who took me..." Toriko thought rapidly as she slid the screen door open. _"I wonder if Mother knows who they are... No, I don't think she does. She only thought they worked for Father..."_ "...Well, they _said_ they were from Father."

Toriko felt Seishi's imperceptible flinch and winced inside; so hearing her call Sephiroth 'Father' caused Seishi pain. She had to watch herself more carefully...

"They weren't?" Seishi

"They're, um... Well, they work for Shin-Ra, but they work for all the higher-ups, not just...that man. Someone else learned of my existence and they sent the Turks after me to hold me hostage against him."

Seishi grunted. Toriko wondered if that was a response to her statement or a reaction to the movement required for sitting: they had reached the veranda now and Seishi was laboriously easing herself down. From the delicacy of her movements, Toriko was fairly certain Seishi's strange disease had covered her entire body.

"Father didn't believe them until he met me face-to-face," Toriko said as Seishi exhaled, clearly tired after the effort. "Then he orchestrated my escape and declared me to the world so nothing like that could happen again."

"I wondered why he did that..." Seishi murmured. "For a while, I thought he'd taken leave of his senses..."

"Not really. Above all, Fa—that man is sensible."

Seishi looked at her, wry and annoyed. "You can say 'Father'. I'm not going to die."

"But it makes you uncomfortable, and you have enough trouble already."

Seishi laughed in a bark, her ailing frame shaking with the motion. "It does look that way, doesn't it? Tell me, do I look that much worse than from when you saw me last?" Toriko looked at Seishi for a long moment, not sure what to say. Seishi apparently took her silence as an answer for the worse and laughed again, this time more bitterly. "At least I don't feel much worse. I suppose that means my body's going numb on me."

"You're not going to die any time soon," Toriko said gently, remembering the turn that this conversation often took. "You can still move around and your organs appear to be functioning."

"Do you want to know something strange, Toriko?" Seishi said, seemingly changing the topic. "Do you remember how my flesh used to boil and hiss?"

"Yes." Toriko looked at her mother's frame, bandage-wrapped but still full, still curving. "But you don't seem to have lost any..."

"No, I haven't." Seishi looked at her other arm, the one resting on her dragon-headed cane; Toriko reached over and took the cane from her, much as she had done as a young child. Seishi left the rough-curved dragon slide from her fingers and watched as Toriko reacquainted herself with the wood, polished from use and time. "I thought my body was rotting on my bones, but it just boils on the surface..."

"So what happens?"

"Nothing." Seishi sighed and said, "The damn bruises just get bigger."

"At least you haven't lost your other eye."

"No, I'm just losing my hair."

Toriko looked at Seishi's hair, a still-lustrous fall of dark brown-black that fell straight and glimmering past her waist. "Or maybe your sight, Mother. Your hair seems to be fine."

"It's going silver," Seishi said disgustedly. "As if that man hasn't taken enough..." She stopped, suddenly remembering herself, and looked at Toriko. "Ah..."

"It's alright, Mother," Toriko said, blinking. "I know I was conceived of rape."

Seishi stared. "How?" She asked breathlessly.

Toriko almost laughed. "How could I not? You went white with fury every time someone called you the Demon's Whore. If you had loved him you would have gotten angry, but not murderous. I could feel your anger every time his name was mentioned."

_"I also know your memories, Mother. Every time you looked at me, you relived them. How could I not know how I was conceived, violently and unexpectedly?_

_"I also know how angrily, how unwillingly you carried me. You began educating yourself about poison specifically to get rid of me and unwittingly immunized me each time you took arsenic, cyanide, belladonna, nightshade—anything to shake me loose. You even picked fights in hopes that someone would hit you hard enough to make you miscarry. The only thing that made you decide to carry me to term was the fact that you hoped to blackmail Father someday..."_

Not that Seishi's feelings had remained that way after her birth, but the memory of all that rage, that bitterness, that hate came flooding back and Toriko felt something her chill and freeze. It was a familiar sensation, one that had been slowly ebbing since she had begun to live with Sephiroth. It was wariness, suspicion, resentment...

As well as a desperate, almost painful desire to be loved in spite of everything she was and couldn't help being.

_"I'll be a good daughter, just don't throw me away... Again."_

Seishi looked away, shutting her eye. "...I see. Well... Does it bother you much?"

"Only because it bothers you."_ "And makes you hate me."_

"Is that all?"

"Yes."_"You wouldn't believe me if I told you your real reasons."_

Seishi looked at her, and to Toriko's surprise her expression was pained, almost tearful. Reaching up, Seishi touched her cool, soft hand to Toriko's cheek and sighed shakily.

"I've not been a very good mother, Tori-chan..." Seishi whispered. "I... I'm sorry for giving you away."

"You had your reasons, Mother. You didn't want me to become a prostitute."_"You wanted to get rid of me…"_

"Even so..." Seishi stroked Toriko's face, stirring her embers of filial affection. "I could have done more for you. I should have done more for you."

"I don't see how," Toriko said, genuinely puzzled. "You were kicked out of the Shusaku household with only your clothes and your koto; you did the best you could considering your circumstances. I don't blame you for raising me the way you did."

_"I only blame you for saying you loved me and yet thinking that life would be easier without me... And it is, isn't it? Look at how well you've done for yourself..."_

"Do you hate me?"

The starkness of the question made Toriko stare. "No!" She said vehemently. "Mother, would I have come back if I'd hated you?"

"Maybe, specifically to tell me that you do hate me."

"You're morbid, Mother." Impulsively Toriko reached out and—very gently—hugged Seishi, pressing her face into the cool crook of her mother's neck. "I don't hate you."_"Not much, anyway. I hate Hojo and President Shin-Ra a lot more than I hate you."_

"Tori-chan..." Seishi almost sounded like she was crying.

"Far from it," Toriko said as Seishi awkwardly reached up with cool, weak hands and stroked her still-growing hair; her hand ghosted over the gray headscarf she was wearing. "I love you, Mother..."

_"Which is true, in spite of everything... And I know you love me too, as conflicted as you are. I really need to pay more attention to your emotions and not your thoughts, even though you concentrate on the latter more intensely..."_

Seishi made a peculiar hiccupping noise, and it took Toriko a moment to realize that her mother was actually crying. Tears were seeping from her ruined, bandaged eye, were spilling silently from her good one, and soaking into Toriko's sleeve.

"I want you to live with me again..." Seishi sobbed quietly, rocking back and forth. "I want to do it over... I want to be your mother... I can do it better this time, I can..."

Toriko didn't know what to say. She closed her eyes, the image of Sephiroth appearing transparent in her eyes.

_"If I leave, I will no longer be protected by his presence... Hojo will come after me again. Plus... How would we explain it, me suddenly dropping everything to live with Mother?_

_"...And how would he take it?"_

"I can't live with you again, Mother," Toriko said as gently as she could. "You know why."

"Do you love him more than me?"

Toriko stared and drew back a little, frowning. Seishi looked at her, eye wet but still hard and growing harder. No, sharper, like a wild crystal growth. Glittering, treacherous...fragile.

"Mother," Toriko said, wary of the look. "That's a—"

"It's a very simple question," Seishi snapped, making Toriko flinch. "Do you?"

"Mother..."

"Him or me, Tori? Who do you care for more?"

Toriko shook her head. "Please don't put me in that position, Mother..."

She flinched as Seishi's hand—one was still on her shoulder—suddenly tightened with a strength that a sick woman should not have had. Looking at her mother's face, Toriko suddenly wondered why Seishi looked so much more feral, suddenly so alien. It felt like something more than anger...

_"Could it be desperation?"_

"Answer my fucking question," Seishi said in a low, tight voice.

"Alright, Mother," Toriko said, a flicker of heat in her voice. "The answer may not be to your liking, but—"

Seishi's jaw dropped and her face went pale, the darkness of her bruises becoming almost black. In a shaken voice she said, "You mean you—"

"I love you more, Mother," Toriko said quickly. "But that man needs me in a way you don't. Therefore, I have to stay with him always. Out of duty, not affection. Do you... Do you know what I mean?"

Seishi stared at her a long time, her face still pale and frightened. Then gradually she exhaled, her fingers easing on Toriko's shoulder.

"Yes," she said, and Toriko almost sighed with relief. "Yes, I know what you mean. He... He's not human."

_"That's not what I meant, but..."_ "Yes, Mother. I'm trying to make him...softer."

Seishi laughed harshly. "Good luck..."

Toriko chuckled and looked at the pond. It was a perfect mirror tonight, reflecting the bone-white moon above: idly Toriko noticed the thinnest halo of red at its edges, bringing to mind old superstitions of bad things happening on a blood moon...

_"But it's not a full blood moon yet... Maybe I'll only have a little disaster? Does this meeting with Mother count?"_

"Tell me of your life," Seishi said suddenly, and Toriko glanced at her mother. Seishi was looking up at the sky, her good eye half-closed. "Tell me about Midgar."

Toriko nodded. "Yes, Mother. Anything you want to know..."

_"Anything to get us away from you and Father..."_

Author's note:

New picture of Seishi on dA!

I think this is the longest chapter I've done in a while... Whoopee! Originally Sephiroth was going to wander in and give Seishi a panic attack, but that created a bunch of "OMG teh angst!" I didn't really know how to deal with. I'm still trying to figure out if they should meet again ever and how to work it in if they do... Seishi needs some resolution.

Erm... I feel like I should say something about Toriko and Seishi here, but I can't figure out what. As you can probably tell, their relationship is not normal: Toriko is much too forward with her mother, she talks like she's in her late teens/early twenties instead of twelve years old. Blame it on her intelligence. I really hope the formatting came through on this chapter, because almost every time that Toriko responds to Seishi's questions, she's thinking something else... If the italics don't come through, it just looks like Toriko's saying all these things aloud and Seishi's just not responding, which isn't the case. For easy reference, when Toriko is talking and there are two speech lines mashed end on end, the second line is ninety-percent of the time her thought.

And if Seishi doesn't seem like her normal evil self, she's not supposed to be. Toriko's like a millstone around her neck; if you've read 'the Scarlet Letter', Toriko's like Pearl except less...more...devil-child-ish. I mean, Toriko doesn't torture her parents by being a senseless brat: if she says anything mean or cutting, it's because she's aiming for a specific effect.

Edit: I exported the chapter back into the document manager and stuck HTML tags on everything--hopefully that'll make the difference between thoughts and words clearer. If it still looks confusing, tell me and I'll do that I can.

And (on a completely unrelated note) don't worry about Reno. He does not have a concussion. After all, everyone knows his head is harder than that...


	86. Chapter 79

Put Your Lights On

5.5.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Seventy-Nine

/\/\/\/\/\

She must have known it was useless, but Toriko tried to sneak back in without him knowing. Anticipating her movements, Sephiroth waited until she was in her room and fairly secure that she had gotten in undetected before flinging the sliding door between their rooms open. She jumped around as the door slammed loudly in the frame, guilt in her olivine eyes.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing out of her mouth.

Sephiroth folded his arms. "Sorry for what?" He asked calmly, though he felt anything but.

Toriko looked at him, eyes faintly slivered in distrust, and he saw her starting to edge back. "For sneaking out without your knowledge."

"And?"

"...Knocking out Reno and sticking him in the closet."

He narrowed his eyes. "And?"

"...going around unescorted?"

Sephiroth grit his teeth and Toriko flinched, shrinking against the floorboards. "And?" He said once more, ominously.

There was a flicker of defiance in Toriko's eyes. _"I will not," _she thought stiffly at him, _"apologize for visiting Mother."_

_"I'm not angry that you visited your mother,"_ Sephiroth shot back. His temper flared, dangerously close to erupting, and Sephiroth took a deep breath to calm himself as Toriko took a visible step back, curving towards the window. Absently Sephiroth realized he had never been this angry with her before and she knew it, which made her wonder what the situation's potential for violence was.

_"She thinks I'm going to hit her..."_

Rather than shaming him into calm, the idea had some definite perks. Striding over to her, Sephiroth seized the front of her shirt in one hand and hauled her off the ground, ignoring the stab in his chest as she immediately shut her eyes so tight that her face was almost unrecognizable.

"Open your eyes," he commanded, his voice trembling with fury. "Look at me!" When she cracked her eyes open, cringing, he pulled her close and hissed, "You should know better than to defy even my implicit orders if you're staying with me out of duty!"

Toriko gasped, her eyes widening. _"You mean... You were listening? You heard?"_

_"It was hard not to!" _He bellowed over their mental link, making her cry softly with pain. _"When I came back and didn't find you here, I searched for you in our thoughts and what did I find you saying? That you don't love me, that you stay with me out of _duty? _Out of _pity?"

His grip tightened on her shirt and unintentionally he began shouting, his voice starting off low and not staying that way. "Just who do you think you are? What do you think your role in this relationship is? I don't _need_ you! I could throw you out right now! In fact, give me a reason I shouldn't!"

When Toriko stared at him, wordless with horror and fright, Sephiroth let go of her shirt and she stumbled as she hit the ground, almost unbalanced enough to fall. "That's right," he said coldly, or tried to: his voice was shaking with anger and something else he didn't want to name. "You can't. You stay at _my_ sufferance. I could get rid of you at any time, Toriko. Remember that."

"Yes, Father." Toriko said miserably, looking down at the ground, her black scarf falling around her to hide her face. "I understand."

"Do you, really?" Sephiroth glared at her with narrowed eyes, trying to contain his temper. She was lying, she had to be: he had felt her thoughts when she'd been with Seishi, how uncomfortable she'd been when Seishi had made her choose. And how, only after a moment's hesitation, she had spit out that she loved Seishi more.

"_She may have spent more time with that woman, but never ONCE have I tried to get rid of her. Never once have I tried to kill her. I gave her a home, someplace safe to come back to, protection from her worst enemies... Is all of that worthless? Does she not understand what I've done for her? What I've given up? I used to be invincible and now... _

"_Now I've lost my temper over this little chit of a girl... Look at what you've cost me, Toriko..."_

"Please don't get rid of me..." Toriko said, her voice almost a sob. She looked at him with glimmering eyes, cringing and through her lashes: she was still expecting to be hit.

"Don't get rid of you?" He repeated, tilting his head. "Funny, I had the impression you didn't want to stay."

She shook her head, shutting her eyes. "That's not true, Father."

"You're right, it's not true—not exactly true." Leaning down, he said softly, "You want me to protect you from Hojo."

She shook her head again, lying again. "No, I like staying with you," she said tearfully.

"Because you have a comfortable life."

"No!"

"Then what is it?" Sephiroth bellowed, even shocking himself with the sudden flare of temper. Toriko let out a small scream and flinched away, her hands flying protectively to her face. The motion, the small defiance, made him furious and Sephiroth swung at her, his fist aiming for her shoulder. At the last second, he remembered their differences in strength.

"_If I hit her with a closed fist, she's going to die."_

So he slapped her on the shoulder instead, but it was enough to knock her onto the ground and make her cry out, clutching her shoulder. As she lay on the floor, crying softly and mewling, Sephiroth flexed his hand and stood over her.

"Why did you reject her offer, Toriko?" He asked in low, deadly voice. "Why did you choose to stay?"

He heard footsteps in the hall. Sephiroth considered kicking Toriko behind the bed for the sake of appearances—after all, it wouldn't do if someone walked in on what looked like a scene of abuse—but he considered too long and the door slid open, revealing Rufus. The young man was swaying slightly and his eyes were overbright: Sephiroth realized he was high.

"Sephiroth..." Rufus said, his voice soft but absolutely filled with shock. "What the..."

"Go away," Sephiroth growled, turning toward him. Even fifteen feet away, Rufus took a step back, his eyes widening in fear. "This doesn't concern you."

"B...Bullshit it doesn't," Rufus said, his eyes flicking to Toriko. "What are you doing to her?"

"It's none of your business."

"I'm making it my damn business!" Rufus snapped; apparently whatever he was on was making him brave. Too bad for him. "Sephiroth! Are you beating your daughter?"

"No," Toriko moaned, sitting up. "I... I dislocated my shoulder. Father was putting it back for me."

"Don't lie for him, Toriko!" Rufus said sharply, pointing at her. "I heard shouting! I don't know what the fuck's going on, but I know I don't like it!"

And he strode into the room, glaring at Sephiroth with crack-glazed eyes. Sephiroth glared right back as Rufus went to Toriko, putting his arms protectively on her slight shoulders.

"She's just a little girl," Rufus snarled, his voice as savage as Sephiroth had ever heard it. "How could you...?"

"She's my daughter," Sephiroth snapped. "I discipline her as I please."

"Beating is not discipline!"

"He didn't beat me..." Toriko sniffled.

"Stop lying!" Rufus snapped at her. "It doesn't work when the person you're trying to lie to has _seen_ the evidence!"

And he squeezed her injured shoulder, making her flinch; Sephiroth wondered if he'd bruised her or given her a fracture.

_"It wouldn't be hard for me to hurt her by accident..."_

Taking her by the arms, Rufus pulled Toriko to her feet and put himself protectively between Sephiroth and her, still swaying slightly. Sephiroth couldn't help but admire his drugged-up courage; he'd heard from men in the army that he looked like a nightmare normally, so he had to look even more frightening to someone receiving alternate perceptions. Fleetingly he wondered if their coked-up minds added wings or flaming horns.

"Toriko's not going to stay in this room tonight," Rufus said firmly. "I don't like having her so close to someone who's mad enough to use her as a punching bag."

"And where _would_ she sleep?" Sephiroth asked nastily. "In _your_ bed?"

The obvious sexual context made Rufus's lip curl in disgust and he gave Sephiroth the finger, as well as a vehement, "You fucking sick bastard, I wouldn't be surprised if you did that too!"

"What?" Sephiroth took a step forward, clenching his hands into fists. Vaguely he was aware of his eyes heating up, a sure sign that the Mako lights within were going strobe-crazy, flickering as they always did whenever he became really, truly angry. "How _dare_ you!"

To Sephiroth's surprise, Toriko took Rufus by the shoulder and turned him around, her own eyes flashing angrily. Then before anyone could stop her, she slapped Rufus soundly across the mouth, making him stagger back.

"NO," she said in a voice of pure iron, pointing at Rufus like an errant dog as he touched his reddening cheek, shock all over his face. "Just...NO, Rufus. NO!"

"A...Alright," Rufus said, clearly stunned.

"Take it back!" She snapped, advancing on him. For all that she was a foot shorter and more slenderly built, Rufus still backed up, stunned by the anger in her eyes.

"Y...yeah."

"Say it!"

Rufus rubbed the back of his head, courage replaced by awkwardness. "Uh...alright. Um... I'm sorry for saying your dad's sleeping with you."

"And?" She asked threateningly, and Sephiroth suddenly remembered doing the same thing not a few minutes ago. Pride mingled with annoyance and softly growing guilt.

"I, uh... Ah..." Rufus suddenly frowned. "Wait, what else am I supposed to be sorry for?" Turning around, he looked up at Sephiroth and said, "You... You've got anger management issues."

Sephiroth almost laughed. Of all the completely random things to say... But Rufus went on, saying, "Like I said... I don't want Toriko staying over here. She's going to stay in MY room tonight, with me on the couch and her in the bed. And if you try to get in or take her back in the middle of the night or something, I'm going to sic Dark Nation on you."

"You didn't bring Dark Nation," Sephiroth almost said before remembering that actually yes, Rufus had; the pantheround was so dark and unobtrusive that it actually took effort to realize it wasn't his shadow.

"I will make him chew your balls off," Rufus said vehemently, and it would have been funny if the young man hadn't been so serious.

"Sir, please..." Toriko said, her voice tinged with annoyance and quiet pleading. "You don't need to get involved. It's just—"

"You be quiet!" Rufus said sharply. "You're a minor, you don't get a say in this."

"With all due respect, this concerns me in a big way," Toriko snapped. "So of course I get a say, sir!" Taking a deep breath and glancing quickly at Sephiroth, she said, "I'd rather stay in my own room tonight."

"You're only saying that because you're afraid he'll get even more pissed if you leave!" Rufus snapped and Sephiroth looked at Toriko, wondering if it was true. Something in him twisted when she couldn't meet his eyes.

"_Is she really that afraid of me?"_

To cover the guilt, Sephiroth growled and turned away, heading to his own room. "Do as you like!" He shot over his shoulder, one hand on the sliding door. "I don't care for these proceedings."

"Father..." Toriko looked at him, olivine eyes worried.

Maliciously Sephiroth slammed a mental barrier between them and saw her flinch, suddenly frightened. He threw the door shut then and paced across the room, clenching and unclenching his hands in an effort to calm himself.

"_Stuck up Shin-Ra bastard... Who the fuck does he think he is, butting into my affairs? Can't I have an argument with my own daughter without everyone running in?"_

"Come on, Toriko," Rufus said quietly. "Let's go."

"I don't want to, sir."

"Don't call me 'sir'—I'm your foster uncle," Rufus ordered, firmly but gently: Sephiroth hadn't realized the youth could master such a delicate tone. "Look... You're crying, which means you're upset and scared. I don't know what's going on, but I know it's not good. I don't think you should stay in this room tonight."

Sephiroth snarled silently. _"She's mine, damn it! MINE! No one else tells her what to do!"_

"He's not going to beat me, sir," Toriko said, sounding faintly annoyed. "He knows he could hurt me too easily."

"I said don't call me sir. And he already did! Your arm..."

"I told you, I dislocated it. We were having a fight _while_ he was putting it back into joint."

Rufus laughed scornfully. "Toriko, I may be high right now, but I'm not stupid!"

"Isn't that an oxymoron?"

"Not with this kind of drug. But we're not talking about that, we're talking about this. You're not staying in this room tonight and that's final."

"...If I go, Father will get angry."

"He's angry anyway and he won't blame you if you obey orders from me: it's not exactly like you can resist. Theoretically I could have your legs broken if you chose not to obey me... Not that I _will, _but you know..." Rufus's voice softened. "It's for your safety, Toriko..."

"But..." Toriko sounded like she was wavering. Sephiroth almost broke down their barrier to shout at her.

_"You brat! Is that how it is, that you run to anyone who can offer you protection? Would you go to President Shin-Ra if he could keep you safe from Hojo? From me? Do you really think you need to be safe from me?_

_"...DO you need to be safe from me?"_

"Your offer is very kind..." Toriko said quietly. "And I understand your concern. But staying here tonight would be best for the situation."

"I don't think—"

"I said some things that hurt my father. He was lashing out. If I go away, it'll just make things worse."

"It's not your job to keep him happy, Toriko," Rufus said in a low voice. "I know this from personal experience, just trying to make your parents happy will make you _miserable._"

"You didn't want to go into business?"

"No, I like business well enough." Rufus sighed, quiet for a moment, then added softly, "What I didn't like was having to pose as my parents' golden boy. Having to pretend I was perfect when I knew I wasn't. And the pressure to be the best in everything was... Still is... Well, I'm sure you've heard the rumors."

"Rumors?"

"Don't play dumb. Even the toddlers in Midgar know I do cocaine."

"What's cocaine?"

"It's... Well, never mind what it is. You shouldn't be messing with it anyway."

A long silence. Sephiroth could hear Toriko worrying the fabric of her shirt and Rufus sighing quietly in annoyance.

"Father thinks I don't want to live with him anymore."

_"Why are you telling him our business, Toriko?" _Sephiroth flared silently. He put one hand on the sliding door, knowing it would take only that motion to put an end to the conversation: yet he was too curious to see where it would go, just what exactly she would say to the vice president. Sephiroth closed his eyes, peeking over the barrier to see what Toriko was seeing.

Rufus frowned, looking angry rather than puzzled. "Maybe it's for the best."

"No," Toriko said, shaking her head. "No, it's not."

"Staying with someone you're frightened of..."

"Sir, he's never hit me."

"Will you stop with the lying?"

"I'm serious, sir. He knows even a tap will kill me. As angry as he gets, he will never beat me."

That was very true. Sephiroth might slap her, pick her up and shake her, squeeze the air out of her almost to the point of cracking her ribs, but he would never hit her with a closed fist, never put real strength into any of his blows. He had killed too easily too many times.

_"All I'd have to do would be to squeeze her shoulder too hard just once... Punctured lungs, broken veins. Even regenerating, she would probably still..._

_"If I'd been even a little more angry..."_

Sephiroth exhaled softly, guilt growing like a cotton plant inside him. Expanding with every breath, it filled him with a vague, indefinable sense of unease that made him feel as if he had done something terrible.

_"I made her cry, but a lot of things do that... And she wronged _me._ I thought after all this time, she'd... Does she really stay with me for security only? Am I lacking somehow? How can I..._

_"I don't want her to leave."_

"Verbal abuse—" Rufus began to say, but Toriko started laughing.

"Sir, any one of our conversations could be construed as verbal abuse. It's normal for us to insult and jab each other."

"To the point of drawing blood? Toriko, it looked like you guys had hit veins when I came in."

Toriko shrugged. "Sometimes you have to let the bad blood out."

"But there's a difference between a healthy argument and a dumb fight. Why does he think you don't want to live with him, anyway?"

"I still have family in Wutai. I went to visit them and they invited me to stay with them."

Rufus made a knowing noise. "I think I understand now..."

"Yes. He's afraid I'm going to leave him." Sephiroth twitched guiltily. "He thinks I don't love him."

"Do you?"

"I do."

_"She does?"_

"He's not perfect," Toriko went on. "But no one is. I love him because he tries, even if he's not mature all the time himself."

Sephiroth twitched again, but this time with annoyance. _"Just what does she mean by..."_

Rufus chuckled. "You mean when he pretends he's not angry when he's really fucking furious?"

"It's not only that..." Toriko trailed off, not caring or perhaps too wise not to explain. After a long moment she said, "Sometimes he seems to forget I'm a girl."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like he doesn't know how to raise a child, so he trains a little soldier instead. I feel like an apprentice..."

Rufus snorted. "I think that's a Shin-Ra problem."

Toriko chuckled and Rufus laughed quietly with her. They fell into companionable silence, in a bubble all by themselves until Rufus looked at her and said, "I really think you should sleep somewhere else tonight."

"Is that an order?" Toriko asked in the even, deceptively mild voice she used when she was annoyed.

"Yes," Rufus said. "Yes, it is. If Sephiroth gets pissed, he can take it up with me."

_"Damn straight I will,"_ Sephiroth thought, his hand tightening on the door. _"She's mine, you have no right to meddle in on our affairs..."_

"I still don't think..."

"I can't put a Turk in your room," Rufus said quietly. "They'd obey his orders if he told them to stay out of the situation."

"But me staying in _your_ room is suspicious."

"Not if we don't say anything about it."

"That sounds even _more_ suspicious."

Rufus laughed. "I know, but it's unavoidable. I promise I'm not going to do anything to you."

"Even so, it's not proper."

"Neither's staying awake all night because you're afraid of getting the shit kicked out of you."

"..."

Rufus turned, nodding toward the hallway door. "Let's get going, then."

"Wait."

"What is it now?"

Toriko worried at the fabric of her shirt. "What if... You just put Dark Nation in here?"

"Have him watching you instead of me?"

"Yes."

Rufus rubbed his chin. "It's an idea... I mean, if you're absolutely not going to move..."

"I'll fight you if you try to make me."

"Well, that's pretty definite," Rufus said with aplomb. Sighing, he said, "I guess it's alright if Nation stays with you. I'll send him along in a moment."

"Thank you," Toriko said quietly.

_"Thank you...? She said 'thank you'." _Sephiroth winced as a sudden pain seized his heart. Toriko would never ask for help, never request protection against him, but if she said 'thank you'…

_"I've made her that afraid... Maybe she really does want to go, but..."_

"What about you?"

"What do you mean?" Rufus asked, frowning.

"Doesn't Dark Nation stay with you while you're sleeping?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, who's watching you tonight, then?"

"We do have three Turks. At least one of them is not sleeping at any point in time."

"But you're a Turk short tonight."

"What do you mean?"

"Reno..."

"Oh, you mean that fall down the stairs he took?" Sephiroth almost snorted. "One cure spell and he was as right as rain. That was one heck of a goose egg on the back of his head, though. We're still trying to figure out how he did that to himself."

Toriko suppressed a guilty twitch and a chuckle. "So he's alright?"

Rufus nodded. "He's got a headache, but he'll live."

"That's good..."

Rufus looked at Toriko for a moment before taking a step forward and giving her a hug. Toriko stiffened as her face was pressed against his chest, his arms warm and secure. Jealousy wrangled with protectiveness as Sephiroth realized Rufus was hugging her more warmly and tighter than he'd ever feel comfortable doing.

_"It's because he has normal strength... He's not afraid of breaking her..."_

"Umm...sir?" Toriko said in small voice, glancing at him. "What are you...?"

Rufus let go. "Sorry... Do hugs make you uncomfortable?"

"A little..."

To Sephiroth and Toriko's mutual surprise, he pecked her on the forehead. When Toriko opened her mouth to say something, Rufus said with a chuckle, "I've always wanted a little sister, Tori... You don't mind, do you?"

"No..." Toriko said, sounding suddenly small and vulnerable.

"Good." Rufus patted her on the shoulder. "Now you're one of the five."

"The five?"

Rufus held up a hand. "A long time ago I decided there would be five people in the world I could trust. Just five—anything higher than that and it would get dangerous for me to get into the business. Shin-Ra's not really popular with a number of people, you know? And the less weaknesses I have the better."

"So I'm one of your five weaknesses now?"

"Officially I don't have any weaknesses," Rufus said humorously. "No, you're one of the five people I can trust myself to be weak with."

Toriko blinked, suddenly realizing the enormity of what Rufus was saying. "Wait...why me?"

"Because you're a cute little girl," Rufus said, smiling. "And I have the feeling we're more similar than you think. Since I'm not really happy with the way I am right now, I want to make sure you don't turn out the same. Therapy is _very_ expensive."

"I see..." Toriko looked at the floor, fiddling with the ends of her scarf. "That's very generous of you, sir."

"Don't call me 'sir'." He said again, though a wry smile twisted his lips.

"Well, just 'Rufus' seems impolite..."

"We're family," he said expansively. "I don't care."

Toriko blinked, and then chuckled quietly. "Alright... Nii-san."

"Knee what?"

"Nii-san. It's a term meaning 'big brother'—I'll use that until I'm comfortable with your name. Is that alright?"

"Sure... And I can call you Tori, right?"

"Yes, of course," Toriko chuckled. Sephiroth stepped away from the screen door, pain in his chest. He wondered if he was having a heart attack, or at the very least a heart siege. The way Toriko could open up so easily to someone who was a virtual stranger, it made him sad.

_"We became familiar fairly quickly, but it still took more than one meeting... And now she's laughing with Rufus and calling him family. Why?"_

"Good night, Tori," Rufus said, getting to his feet. "Nation will be here in a few minutes."

"Alright, thank you," Toriko said, also standing. "Good night, Nii-san."

Rufus left, shutting the door quietly behind him, and Sephiroth heard Toriko pacing around, presumably getting ready for bed. A few minutes later he heard her open the screen door as a four-beat step entered her room, and he could just imagine her hugging the dark blue pantheround, a smile on her relieved face.

_"I really frighten her, don't I? Well, fright's alright... A little bit of it, anyway."_ As Sephiroth unbuttoned his shirt and sat down on the bed, he shut his eyes and thought, _"Fright's all that's keeping us together right now... Her fear of Hojo, my fear of losing her to Seishi. It'll do until I'm completely certain of where I stand... Because I already know what Toriko is to me. She's my daughter and I'm not giving her up to anyone..."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Yet more evidence that Sephiroth is nowhere near as stable as he looks. He doesn't react very well when threatened, does he? Then again, considering the nature of the threat I'm not that surprised. This is the first time in his life he's had real affection. If it looks like it'll leave, he'll first try to convince himself that he doesn't need and then angst about losing it later. He's not flexible enough to beg.

And Rufus... He's been very WAFF-y this entire fic. We need to have more moments of ball-busting evil, but keep in mind that this is still early—not even a year—into his career at the Company. The sharkiness will come later. And if he seems really WAFF-y here, remember... He's high! He's just snorted cocaine! He went into rehab, but he's relapsing.

About Toriko, all I can say is that she's too nice for her own good where her father is concerned. Hopefully she's going to get smarter about that, but I'm not holding my breath.

/\/\/\/\/\


	87. Chapter 80

Put Your Lights On

5.5.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Eighty

/\/\/\/\/\

Sephiroth acted no different the next day during the talks, but when Rufus glanced at him he couldn't help but see his silver-haired general in a new and entirely uncomplimentary light. Because he'd heard no sounds of mauling in the night and Dark Nation had returned to him unscathed, Rufus assumed Toriko had been left alone. He hadn't seen her today and made a note to ask Tseng, when he came back with her after their walkabouts, how she was doing.

The 'peace talks' were more like a series of field trips as Lord Godo showed them around Wutai, giving them ample physical proof that nothing against the treaty was happening. Theoretically this was all stuff that Derricks, the president of the Wutai division of the Company, should have been keeping an eye on, but it never hurt to reaffirm. Rufus, along with Sephiroth's guidance, made sure that Wutai's army was no bigger than necessary to keep the populace safe from monsters and that its materia was low-level and in no danger of cloning. The man had an almost preternatural talent for judging materia: when Lord Godo had showed them the military stores—it barely filled a chest, pitiful considering Wutai had once been the materia capital of the world—Sephiroth had stuck his hand into the glowing orbs, run it through once, and then confidently plucked out twelve orbs that were starting to facet inside, the sign of a high-leveled or mastered materia. Lord Godo's face hadn't changed, but Rufus could sense chagrin just wafting out from his vassals Gorki and Chekhov.

"_I bet they didn't count on us going through the entire chest... They probably stuck those down at the way bottom."  
_

"These are still within bounds," Sephiroth said, putting the orbs back. "Are there any other materia stores we should know about?"

"What you see is what we have," Godo said, gesturing at the chest. If there was a note of bitterness in his voice, it was well hidden.

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed ever so slightly in the universal expression of distrust, but he didn't say anything. Rufus glanced over Godo, checking for liar's signs. As part of his education—not a part that the public knew of—Rufus had been given intense training in face-reading, and after nearly ten years of studying visages he was almost as good as a mind-reader. Godo's face showed no signs of duplicity, but Gorki and Chekhov's...

"_So they know something he doesn't... How do I call them on it?"_

He glanced at Sephiroth, who had apparently picked up the same thing.

"_You can't," _Sephiroth said with a subtle change of his face. _"We have no proof. Drop it."_

But Rufus was feeling belligerent. It might have been the fact that Sephiroth didn't know anything about business, or maybe because he'd seen the man—well, almost—strike his daughter, but for some reason he just did not feel like listening to him today. Rufus opened his mouth to say something and instead staggered as brilliant white lights exploded in his eyes. For a moment, the floor seemed to be coming at him very fast...

"Pardon him," Sephiroth asked to the Wutaiese, catching him before he fell. The jarring motion made Rufus suddenly aware that his head was hurting...a lot. Very much, in fact. "He suffers from bouts of narcolepsy. He should be alright once he takes his benzedrine."

"_You sick fuck," _Rufus wanted to scream at him, seeing a glimmer in Sephiroth's eyes. _"You hit me! You punched me in the fucking head! You moved so fast no one could see you do it!"_

It occurred to him, as Sephiroth pulled him none-too-gently to his feet and demurred Godo's offers for Rufus to see a physician, that the silver-haired man was actually punishing him for interfering with him and Toriko last night. The thought made Rufus absolutely furious.

"_You are _NOT _going to intimidate me into silence!"_

Rufus wondered if there was something he could do to Sephiroth to cause him similar pain and briefly wondered if taking custody of Toriko would be a good idea.

"_It would earn me shit for the rest of my life from him... And possibly things more unpleasant than kidney punches..."_

Rufus had a sudden vision of waking up and finding Sephiroth standing over him with that huge-ass sword of his that made everyone want to pee their pants.

"_And uh... I've heard raising a kid is really hard. I don't think I could do it. I mean, I'm barely out of childhood myself, how could I... Yeah._

"_But something has to be done about the hitting. Ha, maybe I'll send Sephiroth to therapy..."_

The idea of the silver-haired man lying on a couch and talking about his problems was good enough for a giggle, which Rufus immediately quashed. Shaking his aching head, he cleared his throat and said, "Gentlemen, please—I'm fine. It's only mild narcolepsy—"

"_Damn you, Sephiroth!"_

"I'll be able to function." Rufus finished, smiling.

"Are you certain you would not like to see a physician?" Godo asked, frowning.

"Or at least get your pills?" Sephiroth asked, putting a slight emphasis on the last word. The inflection he gave it might as well have made the word 'drugs'.

"I'll be fine," Rufus said, looking at him and still smiling. "How about you? Do you need your antipsychotic medications today?"

It was utterly childish, but Rufus almost cackled at the look of mixed horror and fury shining out of Sephiroth's Mako eyes. His face was otherwise expressionless, which made it even funnier, and the way that Lord Godo and his vassals were absolutely still was priceless. It was an intense struggle for Rufus not to break into a full-out grin.

"Well, gentlemen, let's continue!" He said brightly, clapping his hands for effect. "I believe we were going to see the armory next?"

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Rufus is...special. And Sephiroth needs so many drugs, man. So many drugs.

/\

And now, the actual chapter. Ta-da!

/\/\/\/\/\

Yoko and Tsukiko sniffed quietly, muffling their sobs in Seishi's sleeves. Seishi stroked their hair, glaring balefully up at Suzu.

"So this is what it comes to, eh?" Seishi said softly, watching her former second-hand-woman pace in front of her. "Killing Wutai for your pride..."

Suzu smiled coldly. Gone was the friendly, fluttering head geisha Seishi had come to trust: snapping her fan open and shut, Suzu looked every bit the archetypical castrating bitch, complete with beautiful clothes and makeup. Seishi watched her pace, proudly like a lioness, and cursed her stupidity. She should have seen Suzu's betrayal coming—she was a former noblewoman who had lost everything to the war—but being a woman of similar circumstances had made her think all women dealt with their losses as she did, by regrouping and moving on. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

_"At least I was not amiss in not telling her of the mercenaries Nanashi and I hired: that's why we're in my little house now, waiting for the fighting to stop. Hopefully the mercs will finish all her zealots off, or at the very least reduce her forces to the point where an attack is no longer feasible."_

Yet Suzu did not seem worried, which either meant she was a true fanatic and believed her cause would succeed no matter what, or that she had a trick up her perfumed sleeve. Considering her spectacular acting skills and how she had confidently replaced nearly all the regular dancing girls and geisha in the Lotus with kunoichi over the past several months, Seishi seriously suspected the latter. Especially since the sounds of fighting had stopped almost fifteen minutes ago...

_"Surely the mercs would have put up a better fight than that."_

Seishi turned as the door slid open and a young man walked in, smiling warmly, coyly at Suzu. Seishi noticed the woman blush under his gaze.

"My lady," the young man said politely, bowing deeply from the waist. "The hostile forces have been subdued. They are now completely under our control."

"Excellent," Suzu said, snapping out her fan and smiling triumphantly at Seishi. "So, how does it feel? You're not the only smart one around here, Seishi. This is Fuhito, returned to us from the Continents. He is quite a talented mage and has been immeasurably useful to our cause."

As Fuhito chuckled and demurred, Seishi closed her eyes briefly, thinking. "...You used Manipulate materia, didn't you?" She said at last, looking at Fuhito intensely.

"Yes, my lady," he said—if nothing else, he was a polite little snake. "Several, actually, in a complicated array: I'm surprised you thought of that, most people don't even know Manipulate materia exists."

Seishi suppressed the urge to bite the inside of her cheek. Her education was quite eclectic, and as a result she knew that unlike most Materia, the spells contained in 'Manipulate' would not drain the user. Hence, once the spells were set up, they would continue going until the user died.

"I can see what you're thinking," Suzu said, snapping her fan shut. "Don't even try to think of assassinating Fuhito: he's an excellent warrior as well, and there's no real reason to keep you alive."

"So why are you?" Seishi asked, looking up at her.

Suzu smiled coldly, evilly. "I want to see the Demon's face when I kill his woman in front of him."

Seishi's hands tightened on Yoko and Tsukiko's heads; good girls, they didn't cry out or squeak. "So people _still_ believe that tired old lie..." she growled.

"Why else would you carry his child to term?"

"Because I wanted to blackmail him!" Seishi roared, the harshness of her voice lending volume; Suzu jumped, though all Fuhito did was smile and adjust his glasses.

"So why did you give Toriko up," Suzu said, recovering her composure, "if that was your goal?"

"You remember how we were back then!" Seishi snarled. Her body was starting to shake, a combination of temper and her sickness starting to take its daily toll on her. "I couldn't raise my child in a whorehouse!"

"You don't make any sense, Seishi," Suzu said flippantly, snapping her fan open and fanning herself with it. "And I know you; you lie to keep in practice. I'm fairly certain you and the Demon _were_ lovers, and—"

"Fuck you!" Seishi bellowed, dragging herself to her feet. Tsukiko and Yoko cowered behind her, hugging each other and crying softly. "You wouldn't understand, you brainless heartless bitch! You don't have children! You don't even care for anything but yourself, you pathetic wretch!"

"How dare you!" Suzu flared, her eyes flashing.

"Shut up!" Seishi pointed her walking stick at her former subordinate, aiming it like a gun or an accusing finger. "So you lost your family, your status. So you had to sell yourself. Big fucking deal, so did hundreds of other women! And now that they're trying to make new lives for themselves, you go and throw it all away for the sake of healing your idiotic pride! It's just like you fucking nobles, can't think of anything else but empty _honor!_"

"And what would a commoner know about honor?" Suzu snarled, her dark eyes flashing. "I know all about you, Seishi; you were sold into an _o-chaya_ and slept your way to a husband and noble status! Then during the war, you fucked your way or safety with the Continental men! You've lived your entire life on your back, what would you know about honor?"

"Honor does not keep you alive," Seishi growled, glaring so powerfully at Suzu that the other woman had to look away. "Honor does not feed you, nor your child. I may have lived my life on my back, Suzu, but at least I did not live only for myself! When your plan fails, and _it will fail,_ all of Wutai will burn for your idiocy!"

"We'll have the Vice President," Suzu said, smiling as though as she'd already won. "And the Demon will be here too. Shin-Ra won't move against us with two such valuable hostages."

"Shin-Ra won't NEED to move against us if you have the Demon here!" Seishi shouted, dropping her stick to the ground; anger was making her faint. Supporting herself on the dragon-headed cane, she snarled, "He'll set the entire country on fire himself! You don't—ah..."

"My lady!" Yoko and Tsukiko were instantly with her, supporting her as she near swooned. Little hands, strong hands, eased her onto the floor as red dots swam before her eyes.

"You're going to stay here until you're needed," Suzu said, shelving her temper with a hard snap of her fan. "Don't cause any trouble until then...or else."

"Or else what?" Seishi growled, struggling into a sitting position.

"Or I'll have my people in the palace kill your daughter."

Seishi froze. Suzu saw her face and smiled.

"There, that's more like it," she purred. "Now just stay that still and silent, and you may even get out of this alive. Until later, _my lady_..."

And laughing, Suzu left the small house, Fuhito in her wake. The young man looked over his shoulder, adjusting his glasses again.

"We've got the entire place surrounded," he said, still sounding friendly and warm. "So don't try anything, alright? It's going to be useless."

Seishi still had enough dexterity in her fingers to flip him two extremely rude signs. Fuhito chuckled and shut the door behind him. Once the _shogi_ was closed, Seishi exhaled and eased herself back onto the floor, her entire body throbbing with pain.

"My lady, are you alright?" Yoko asked tearfully, leaning over her. "Are you..."

"Everything's going to be fine, right?" Tsukiko asked, her voice wobbling. "I mean...right?"

War orphans both, they lived the horror of loss every day. Seishi had adopted them when Toriko had gone away, drawn to them by the way they resembled her lost daughter and how she too had wanted never to lose anything again. And now for something like this to happen just when everything seemed to be settling down...

_"Things will never go back to normal, but at least we can live this way... And live well. Suzu, you stupid woman, why couldn't you be content with that?"_

"Don't worry, girls," Seishi whispered, trying to smile. "Suzu is not as smart as she thinks she is. Her plan will not succeed."

"Do we have more mercenaries?" Yoko asked, her eyes lighting up.

"No, we don't... But the Continentals are still coming tonight, and the Demon is not to be underestimated." Seishi closed her eyes. "We're going to stay here all night, girls... You don't need to see the walls painted with blood."

_"Sephiroth, you bastard..." _Seishi whispered in her mind._ "You'd better kill them all, down to the last faithless woman among them... And make it hurt. I know you can..."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note 2:

So the trap is set. Hahaha. Let the games begin!

And for those of you who are familiar with Before Crisis, the name 'Fuhito' probably made you stare and/or jump. He's one of AVALANCHE's core members, after all...

/\

Alright, I have to say this. I received a number of reviews for the last chapter that thought Sephiroth's behavior was cute. This makes me ask, "What is cute about extreme jealousy and childbeating? What is cute about rationalizing violence on someone much weaker? What is cute about your parent not being able to control himself?" If you genuinely think his fit of temper was adorable and squeeworthy, I can only raise my brows at you. Yes, I did try to write him sympathetic—a repulsive MC is no fun to read, after all—but that shouldn't take away from the fact that he's still hitting his child. I mean, shit, if I wrote about him and Seishi in such a manner, would rape suddenly turn into or be perceived as romance? We are dealing with a cracked mind here, and we know this even if it doesn't.

Once again I stress that constructive criticisms, even flames, are valuable. Either that'll tip me off to something I need to correct or I can go, "Yay, that's exactly what I was looking for." Please don't sugarcoat anything if you see something you don't like: I want to know exactly what you think. Thank you.

/\/\/\/\/\


	88. Chapter 81

Put Your Lights On

5.5.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Eighty-One

/\/\/\/\/\

Tseng suppressed the urge to jiggle his foot. He was sitting next to Sephiroth, across from Reno and Rufus, in the chocobo-drawn carriage that was heading back to the Blue Lotus for a second night of entertainment. Though Sephiroth and Rufus normally didn't talk, the silence between them tonight was thick and ominous. Tseng wondered if it had anything to do with the shouting he had heard the night before.

_"I was a bit too far down the hall to hear what was going on, but it definitely wasn't pleasant..."_

He glanced at Reno, who was looking stormy. Tseng thought was because he was dressed up in what he called his 'flaming heterosexual' persona, but Reno caught his eye and subtly shook his head, flicking his hands at him in the secret Turk language.

_-bosses pissed-_ The redhaired youth signed. _–fight last night-_

Tseng glanced at Sephiroth: he still remembered how the man hated having the sign language done in front of him, but the silver-haired man was leaning back in his seat, gazing out of the window. Whatever he was concentrating on, it wasn't them. Looking back at Reno, Tseng flicked –_about what?-_

_-Toriko-_

Tseng's brows shot up in surprise. _–why?-_

Reno flicked his fingers angrily at Sephiroth, his blue eyes darkening with temper. _–hit her last night. Rufus not like it-_

Tseng looked at Rufus in surprise. The young man was sitting with his legs crossed, one hand absently stroking Dark Nation as he kept his face schooled to stoic inexpression. The pantheround was curled at his feet and as if picking up on his ire, flicked its tail irritably from side to side, hitting Tseng and Reno's shoes with each sweep.

_-hit how?-_ Tseng flicked to Reno, glancing back at him.

Reno shrugged ever so slightly. _–doesn't matter. Boss, what do we? If Seph hits Toriko...-_

_-not our business-_

_-she's our charge!-_

_-so are all Shin-Ra. And you said Turks weren't babysitters?-_

Reno's eyes narrowed. _–this different-_

The carriage rolled to a stop and Tseng opened the door, exiting first and scanning the area for threats. The street before the Blue Lotus was wide and empty, and he nodded over his shoulder, the signal for Reno and the two Executives to exit. Stepping away from the door, Tseng watched as Rufus and Sephiroth dismounted, both of them looking as calm and composed as ever. Still, there was that indefinable air of tension between them, obvious in the way they subtly but obviously ignored each other.

Reno and Tseng fell in step behind their superiors, behind Rufus and Sephiroth respectively. As they entered the Blue Lotus, joined by the other members of the party, Tseng felt an inexplicable shiver go down his spine. He glanced at Reno, who seemed similarly tense, but the look the nineteen-year-old gave him was not encouraging; apparently they just both had the heebie-jeebies. Tseng suppressed a sign of irritation and stuck his hands in his pockets, his fingers curling around the comforting weight of his retractable nightstick.

Physically nothing was different. Tseng noted with amusement that the two Wutaiese girls who had accosted Sephiroth the day before were there again, instantly swooping down on him like a pair of willowy, bosomy pink flowers. The other officials were similarly beset, and to Tseng's surprise, so were the bodyguards.

"Hello, sir," he heard from his side, and he looked down to see a breathtakingly beautiful young woman sidling up to him, a definite invitation in her silver-gray eyes. "Welcome to the Blue Lotus."

"Thank you," Tseng said, keeping his voice professional and his eyes firmly on her face. He evaded as she tried to latch onto his arm, suddenly aware that the layers of silk she was wearing and the soft curves of her body could be padded with weapons or poison. The girl blinked at him, momentarily perplexed, and smiled.

"Right this way," she said with an adorable tilt of the head, and Tseng found himself almost bemusedly following as they entered the pleasure house. Though one part of him was firmly focused on the delicious sway of the girl's hips, the larger part was still scanning for threats, checking the rafters and dark corners as he and the rest of the conference party stepped into the Blue Lotus. Tseng frowned as he noticed that the Lotus was a good bit darker than it had been the day before, and his growing unease intenfsified.

"Sir seems quite distracted," Tseng's girl commented as they entered the main performance room. It was an octagonal room that, while looking pretty, drove Tseng slightly nuts—the positions of structurally important columns around the edge of the room were just enough to block his visibility in what could be key areas, and while he knew this was purposely done so the girls could come and go as if by magic, that very idea made Tseng uncomfortable. He ran his hand over the wall as he took his place by it, sensitive fingers searching for the hidden door he was fairly confident was there.

"A little," he said, feeling slightly churlish for not answering immediately. To his surprise, he immediately felt the girl's weight on his side, pushing him against the wall, and Tseng turned to see her smiling up at him, her hands sliding outrageously up his chest and back.

"Perhaps you need a little distraction?" She said, smiling invitingly.

"Maybe when I clock out," Tseng said, turning so he could take both her hands and push them away. As soon as he turned to face her, the girl, still smiling, confidently drove her knee into his groin.

A white-hot explosion of pain, so intense that it blinded him, made Tseng collapse, completely stunned. As he gasped for air, clutching his injury and too breathless to scream, he dimly wondered if the same thing was happening to all the bodyguards.

_"Because this has to be an ambush..."_

There was a sudden clatter and Tseng looked through streaming eyes to see Sephiroth clutching one of his pink-clad girls by the wrist, his hand completely encircling her slender arm. His eyes were strobing so strongly that Tseng could see flickers of green light on the girl's ash-pale face, but maybe those could have come from the bright green, half-full tube in her captured hand. No, not tube... _Syringe._

_"She stuck him with something!"_

The effects were already obvious. Sephiroth was breathing harshly, his normally veiled eyes now open to their fullest. The color had drained from his face and Tseng thought he could see sweat beading on the man's forehead.

"Let go!" The other pink-clad girl shouted, her voice angry and panicked. She had whipped a knife from somewhere on her delicate person and was pressing it firmly against Sephiroth's neck, but he didn't seem to care or notice. Still staring at the girl who had stabbed him, he began to apply pressure to her wrist.

"Ah..." The girl gasped, her eyes going wide. "Ahh...! AH!" She started screaming, clawing at the General's fingers. "AHHH! AHHHHH! LET GO! STOP IT!"

_"He's pulping her wrist..." _Tseng thought; he was coping with the pain now, which was still intense but becoming more bearable with each passing heartbeat. The blue-clad girl who had assaulted him ran over to help her colleague, not by threatening the General but by snatching the green tube out of her friend's hand.

"Hya!" The blue girl stabbed Sephiroth deep in the neck, right in the jugular vein. The reaction was sudden and violent. Sephiroth made a strangled gagging noise and he surged to his feet, yanking the needle out of his neck and hurling it away from him. Plastic, it bounced instead of breaking, hitting the wall behind him and dropping to the ground, rolling in strange circular patterns to a stop before Tseng's eyes. Tseng reached out with trembling fingers and drew the syringe close, inspecting it blearily.

_"This is just a standard store syringe; it wasn't made to hold whatever was inside, I can already see the plastic corroding. And that's the smell of Mako, but not reactor Mako... Modified Mako, like the Science and MilSci Departments use... But Hojo couldn't have been behind this. He hates Sephiroth, but he's never been patriotic..."_

The floor shook and Tseng looked up to see Sephiroth lying on the floor, twitching slightly and still making that horrible gagging noise; the uninjured pink girl flipped him over and Tseng recoiled as he saw froth flecking the General's open mouth, the man's normally alert green eyes dull and catatonic, though staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Tseng glanced at the syringe in his hand again before tucking it into his pocket..

_"I've heard of knockout drugs made for berserk SOLDIERS... This is probably one of them, but those drugs were only a rumor! Could this be some kind of dangerous prototype? And where'd these people get it in the first place?"_

"What the hell kind of poison was that?" The blue girl asked in awed horror, kneeling to tend to the injured pink girl.

"Something strong, that's for sure," one of the pink girls said, and reached under the chaise to yank out cuffs and chains. Snapping them onto Sephiroth's wrists and ankles, she said, "I've never seen a reaction like that before."

"Can I stab him a few times?" The injured pink girl asked bitterly, hissing as her blue-clad friend pulled a materia from her sleeve and cast Cure on her broken wrist: Tseng saw her arm re-inflating, as the powerful magic began rebuilding the bone and muscle Sephiroth's angry grip had pulverized.

"Stab, that reminds me," the blue girl said, turning around and looking at Tseng. There was no friendliness in her eyes now, only cold professionalism. "Hold on, Aya, I'll be right back."

Tseng's hand shot into his pocket and he grabbed his nightstick, whipping it out as the girl approached. Flicking it onto its highest setting with a practiced movement, he snapped it out with another and jabbed her firmly in the leg, viciously satisfied as she fell over with a scream and a seizure.

"Mekugi!" The injured pink girl shot to her feet, followed at once by her friend. "You _ainoko_ bastard, what did you do to her?"

"Less than what she was going to do to me," Tseng growled, pushing himself to his feet and almost fainting with pain. Pointing his still-crackling nightstick at the blue girl's head, he said in a low voice, "It'll take just one more poke to kill her."

"Not if we get you first!"

_"Excellent,"_ Tseng thought at the girls threw themselves at him, their fluid movements showing them to be skilled. Changing his grip on his nightstick ever so slightly, Tseng gritted his teeth to ignore the pain and instead thought, _"Come to Papa."_

All Turks were trained in all types of weapons, including swords and nunchaku. Wielding his nightstick as a combination of both, Tseng whacked both girls on the head as they tried to attack him, and the electric shock of the nightstick was so powerful that they instantly collapsed, gibbering and senseless. Tseng reached inside his jacket and pulled out his handgun, ignoring the throbbing pain in his balls.

_"I've had worse," _he repeated over and over. _"I've been shot. This is nothing. I've had worse, I've been shot, this is nothing. I've had worse, I've been—"_

And as if summoned by the word 'shot', Tseng staggered as a sledgehammer blow thudded into his shoulder, sinking between his ribs to hit something important in his chest. He staggered, his back hitting the wall, and Tseng slid down as his legs stopped functioning, refusing to support his pain-wracked body. He looked down, almost in wonder, at the thing that had suddenly sprouted from his shoulder.

_"An arrow? Who the fuck uses arrows these days...?"_

He throttled a cry of pain as two black-clad kunoichi, appearing from one of the side passages he had been concerned about, hauled him onto his feet and briskly patted him down, taking his nightstick and the sidearm he had in his jacket. Once satisfied he was unarmed, they marched him over to one of the walls, where Tseng saw Reno and the other bodyguards. At least half of them were clutching their balls and moaning; Reno looked pissed, but not incapacitated. His look of fury changed to one of alarm as he saw the arrow in Tseng's shoulder.

"Boss!" Reno exclaimed as the kunoichi dropped Tseng on the ground; at once, the burning pain in his groin made Tseng instinctively curl, though his hands were currently trying to staunch the bleeding from his shoulder. "Holy shit!"

"It missed my lung," Tseng said, clutching the arrow. "Reno, I need help."

"Yeah, boss, anything," the young Turk said, scooting over to him; they had been forced to sit. Their guards, two women bearing _naginata_, glared at them but said nothing since they remained on the floor. "What do you want me to do?"

"Did it go all the way through?"

Reno looked at his back. "Yeah, it did."

"Good." Tseng swallowed and shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Break the head off."

He heard Reno making a sound of discomfort and winced as the young man took the arrow in his hands. Pain flared through his shoulder as Reno bent the shaft, snapping the iron arrowhead off after a moment's struggle.

"Okay, it's out," Reno said with a sigh of relief, and before Tseng could stop him, he seized the end of the broken arrow and yanked it out of Tseng's shoulder. The half-Wutaiese man suppressed a yell of pain that still strained through his teeth as a high-pitched grunt.

_"That's not how you're supposed to take the damn thing out! You're supposed to cut off the end and then push the shaft through the wound! There's less chance of infection that way..."_

"Hold on, boss," he heard Reno saying, and Tseng opened his eyes at the sound of tearing fabric. Reno had taken off his jacket and was ripping strips off the bottom of his shirt, making a rough bandage. The boy might not have known anything about arrow first-aid, but at least he thought quick on his feet. Tseng let him briskly wrap the wound, his fellow Turk's ministrations rough but competent.

"Thank you," he said when Reno was done.

"No problem," Reno said, and Tseng was surprised to see the young man's eyes positively glowing with concern. "Anything else?"

"No, I'm fine..." Tseng thought of something. "Reno, how did they get you?"

"Oh..." Reno looked annoyed. "Well, this girl tried to nail me in the balls first, but my sisters did it to me all the time when I was a kid, so I definitely saw it coming. We tussled for a bit and then one of those bitches," he said, jerking his head at their glaive-wielding guards, "hit me in the back with her spear. So here I am."

So there they all were. Across the room, Tseng saw Lord Godo, Rufus, and the other dignitaries being hustled into place and forcefully seated, again watched by glaivewomen. Sephiroth had been hauled off the floor and was currently being chained to a post. Tseng's lip curled in disdain.

_"How juvenile... And that wouldn't hold him, if he were conscious... I wonder how long it's going to take for that drug to wear off. Too long, probably..._

_"Well, this is just perfect. What the fuck do we do now?"_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

And so it begins! Fwaha!

I am late to class for you in order to post this chapter. See the love:D

(And Mom, it's ok; it's the last session of this particular class. A few minutes late, no one cares.)

/\/\/\/\/\


	89. Chapter 82

Put Your Lights On

5.8.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Eighty-Two

/\/\/\/\/\

Rude looked down at his small charge, who met his eyes with green-gray orbs that gave no quarter. After Reno had reported, sheepish and angry, that Toriko had punched him out, Tseng had decided that someone more experienced needed to watch the girl. After all, neither Rufus nor Sephiroth really needed bodyguards—the former had his pantheround and the latter was more than able to take care of himself—so it was alright for the strongest of the Turks to play babysitter. Rude adjusted his sunglasses and Toriko blinked.

"You look like you're waiting for something," she said.

"I'm waiting for you," he replied.

"Me?"

"Yes."

"What do you mean?"

"Every other time a Turk has had to keep an eye on you, you do something. You ran away from Tseng in Junon and you've sucker-punched Reno twice."

"Ah..." Toriko smiled, the corner of her small lips tipping ever so slightly up in one of the cutest expressions of evil Rude had ever seen. "I see. So you're waiting for me to commit some mischief, is that it?"

"Yep."

Toriko's smile broadened. "I'll be sure to think of something extra special for you."

"I'm flattered."

And they continued staring at each other. Time ticked by and Rude started feeling pretty stupid, just standing in the middle of Toriko's room and looking down at her. Admittedly it was easy to keep an eye on her that way, but still... As more time passed, however, Rude realized that he was locked into a contest of wills. Toriko was just waiting for him to look away first. Some stupid superiority thing, no doubt. Well, that wasn't going to happen. He was twenty years her senior, older than her father, damn it, and she was not going to beat him in a staring contest. Rude leaned down, ever so slightly, to impress the fact that he was much, much taller than her and therefore scary. They stared at each other intensely, for a very long time, so hard that Rude was only peripherally aware of a scuffling noise he normally would have paid much more attention too.

Then suddenly Toriko went, "Bleah!", grabbing her nose and corners of her mouth to make just about the most awful face Rude had seen since elementary school. He burst out laughing in spite of himself and in that instant, Toriko bolted for the door. Cursing at once, Rude lunged for her...

...and saw the dark shape stepping, almost slow-motion, into the room. There was a telltale gleam of bright silver in its hand...

Rude swung around, hitting the floor heel-first to slide on his back, and Toriko yelped as he knocked her feet out from under her. She fell backwards onto his leg and he yanked his knee to his chest, quickly bringing her to his arm. Whipping his handgun out of his jacket, Rude twisted catlike in the air to put himself between Toriko and the unknown assailant and aimed his sidearm squarely at the dark shape's head. He had barely enough time to register it as a ninja, dressed in black from head to toe, before it stepped forward and he instinctively fired.

"Don't!" Toriko cried a second too late. "It's Sensei!"

There was a bright flash of silver as the ninja—female ninja—knocked the bullet out of the air and she yanked her hood off with a snarl, throwing it to the ground. It made a curiously wet noise as it hit the wood.

"We've got trouble," she said to Rude.

"We?" He asked warily, turning around to get a better bead on her.

"Yes, we." She said acerbically. For being a tiny little Wutaiese woman, she was positively saturated with rage. "Remember that security tip I gave your boss a few days ago?"

"That was you?"

"Who the fuck else would know about this?" She snarled, throwing her hands into the air.

Rude nodded solemnly, pacifying. "So it's happened, then?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go," Toriko said, her voice terse. Rude looked over his shoulder to see her gray-green eyes flickering, much as her father's did whenever he got angry. "We don't have any time to lose."

Rude frowned. "Shouldn't you be asking what we're talking about?"

"Father as much told me there was going to be an attempt on his life," Toriko said, getting up and dusting herself off. "We made contingencies."

"Like what?" Her sensei asked, clearly in disbelief.

Toriko slid the door separating her father's room from hers open and disappeared briefly, coming back with a seven-foot-bundle that Rude recognized on sight.

"You mean he carried _that thing_ here?" Toriko's sensei exclaimed, staring.

"And a full box of mastered materia," Toriko said, nodding. Tilting her head, she said, "You're not in a position to deliver these, are you though, sensei? You're injured."

"Your father wasn't the only one who's had an attempt on their life," the woman said, brushing her hair out of her face; it slicked curiously on her head, and Rude realized she probably had a cut on her scalp. The all-black of her ninja suit made it impossible to see any injuries. "There was an assassin on the roof."

"For me?" Toriko said sharply.

"Probably. It just as easily could have been for any of the other high-ranking officials in this place."

Toriko looked thoughtful for a moment and her eyes suddenly widened, her breath coming as a sharp hiss through her teeth. "Princess Yuffie."

"I don't think—" Her sensei started to say, but Toriko cut her off.

"Her father and mine are in the same place tonight; we're probably being held as hostages. If something goes wrong, the assassin was probably told to kill one or both of us..."

"But one assassin for two children, especially in different parts of a large palace..." Rude shook his head. "Doesn't make sense. There has to be a second someplace."

"Which means there's another one out there," Toriko said softly, contemplatively. "One that could get either of us. We should take him out."

As Rude looked at her, brows raised, her sensei put her hands on her hips and said, "Stop saying 'we'! You're staying right here!"

"I think not," Toriko said primly, firmly. "My father's in trouble, there's an assassin after me, and you're in no condition to fight."

"Why you cheeky little—"

"She's right," Rude agreed, only mildly surprised: Toriko was the General's daughter after all, and some things just went through the genes. Now that Toriko had brought his attention to it, Rude could see a hundred million little traces that said the ninja woman was hurt and just not showing it; how she stood more heavily on her right leg than her left, how she blinked more slowly, as if fighting off exhaustion, and finally how there was a fine sheen of blood soaking one of her arms. "Toriko, does your father have a healing materia in that box?"

"No. He doesn't need one."

Cocky bastard. Rude reached into his jacket and pulled out the emergency Potion that all Turks had on hand. Ripping the top of it off (they were stored in pouches; glass bottles looked awkward in suit jackets), Rude walked over to the ninja woman and dumped it liberally over her arm and leg. Green sparks flared at the injury sites, soaking into her wounded flesh.

"It's not much," he said, "but at least you won't bleed to death."

"Thank you," she said, looking at him warily. Then her gray eyes flicked around his side and she said sharply, "Toriko! What are you doing?"

Toriko was climbing out of the window, the Masamune over her shoulder and a small black box clutched under one arm. Stuck through a pair of sashes on her shoulders and hips were a pair of swords—where had she gotten those? In a grim little voice, Toriko said, "I'm doing something. Rude, please call the Garrison."

"You get back here right now," Rude said, starting to cross the room, but Toriko jumped out in a flash of black and he ran to the window just in time to see her spring onto the roof. "Shit!"

"Don't bother going after her on the roof," the ninja woman said, and Rude turned around to see her sinking onto the floor, sighing deeply; there was a trail of blood behind her where her injuries had spotted the floor. "She's lighter, she'll move more quickly and quietly. Head to the Princess's quarters."

"The Princess?" Rude frowned. "She said she was going to help her father."

"Which means she's going to clean up here... That girl doesn't like leaving anything unattended." Closing her eyes, the ninja woman said "She's going to take care of that assassin."

"Does she know how?"

The ninja woman shrugged. "She has the training, but the will...? She's only twelve years old."

Only twelve years old... Rude headed for the door, brushing by the ninja woman with a "Thanks" as he headed for Princess Yuffie's chambers.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Sorry for the late posting. I lost track of time.

Action Tori! Oddly enough, she would not have done this if they hadn't fought before. She's trying to prove, very hard, that she is a good girl...

Hey, I never said she was smart all the time.

/\

I went back and fixed some typos in the last chapter so it (hopefully) reads a little smoother than the first time through. Gwendolyn Christopher brought up some excellent points: I took a fair number of them to heart. Thank you so much for dropping such a helpful review! There are some questions I promise will be answered more fully in chapter 86, which is a fun one...

/\/\/\/\/\


	90. Chapter 83

Put Your Lights On

5.5.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Eighty-Three

/\/\/\/\/\

Yuffie was practicing her shuriken skills when she heard a scuffling noise on the roof. Looking up, she frowned and wondered if there were a couple of cats up there. But no, there was no yowling or spitting: something else was going on.

_"Maybe it's a prowler," _she thought, and giggled at the ridiculousness of the idea. But a particularly loud thump startled her into silence, and curiously Yuffie walked over to her window, opening the screen and leaning out in hopes of seeing what was going on. She shrieked as something big and black fell down and hit the ground in front of her.

_"Da-Chao,_" she realized with a jump._ "It's a person!"_

"Hey!" She exclaimed, putting one foot on the window. "Are you al—"

"Get back, stupid!" Barked a harsh, young voice that Yuffie instantly recognized; looking up, she saw the Demonspawn glaring down at her, a nightmare in black clothes with her headscarf fluttering around her head. She was carrying something huge and thin on her shoulder. "He's armed and dangerous."

"Did you kick him off the roof?" Yuffie demanded, enraged.

"No, I swatted him." Jiggling the long, thin object she had on her shoulder, the Demonspawn said snappishly, "That's the only thing I can use this for."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not tall enough to use this big of a sword."

"That's not what I meant!" Yuffie snapped, gesturing angrily at the black lump on the ground. "Why'd you knock him off the roof?"

The Demonspawn sighed in aggravation. "It was either that or kill him, Princess. Like I said, he's armed and dangerous, and he was _right above your room._ What does that tell you?"

"That he maybe might supposed to be watching me?" Yuffie said, rolling her eyes. "I _am_ the Princess, you know."

"Then perhaps you can explain the curious lack of the Royal Crest on him."

Yuffie frowned. "Well, that doesn't make sense. All guards have the crest on them."

"Unless he's not a guard."

Yuffie laughed. "What are you saying, he's an assassin?"

"Yes." The utter seriousness in the Demonspawn's voice made Yuffie stop. "There was one on my roof too."

Yuffie frowned. "Why?"

"I don't know, but I bet it has to do with our fathers."

A stab of fear seized Yuffie's heart. "Is something wrong with my dad?"

"More than likely."

Yuffie turned around and ran out of her room, beelining down the hall where she knew a pair of royal guards would be. To her surprise, there was a tall Continental man, bald and in a suit, arguing with them.

"Will you at least go back there and check?" He was saying, pointing at her room. "Just make _sure_ nothing's wrong?"

"Sir, we're certain there are no assassins after Her Highness," one of the guards said, sounding annoyed. "Now if you'll _please_ go back to your quarters?"

"Hey, guys!" Yuffie ran up, tugging on one of the guards' sleeves. "There _was_ one!"

"Oh, Princess!" The guards looked at her in surprise, and was it her imagination that one of them looked frightened? "What? You mean there really was an assassin?"

"Yeah, he's right outside my window!" Yuffie pointed to her room for emphasis.

"Is Toriko with you?" The bald man said, and it took Yuffie a moment to figure out who he was talking about.

"Oh, umm...no. She's on the roof."

"Shit," the bald man said and turned around at once.

"Are you alright, Princess?" One of the guards asked, kneeling in front of her.

"I'm fine," Yuffie said, "but listen! I think something's wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"I think something's happened to my dad..."

The guards exchanged a look, though what the look was of Yuffie didn't exactly know. "What do you mean?" The same guard asked again.

Yuffie fiddled. She had the feeling the Demonspawn could explain this so much better... "Well... There was an assassin on the roof, and if he's coming after me, then, I dunno... Maybe a coup's going on? And they're going to try to kill me or something?" She looked desperately at the guards. "Look, I'm really worried about my dad! Can't we send some people to the Blue Lotus or something?"

"I'm sure Lord Godo's fine," the kneeling guard said in his best pacifying tones. "Listen, Princess; go back to your room and we'll up security. You'll sleep soundly tonight."

"Not until my dad comes home!" Yuffie said, her voice rising. "I want to see him now!"

"Princess—"

"No!" She threw off the kneeling guard's arms as he tried to reach for her. "Something's wrong, I can feel it! Something's happened to my dad!"

"Now calm down," the standing guard said sternly, stepping toward her, and Yuffie instantly backed up. A sudden horrible, ominous thought had occurred to her: the way these two were acting, trying to calm her down, stick her back in the room she'd almost been attacked in, refusing to believe what she said—what if they had something to do with her father? What if they were going to do something to her?

Yuffie whirled around and ran back to her room, diving at once for the blunted mega-shuriken she used during combat practice. Jamming her shoes on, she hastily tied her shuriken to her back before running for the window.

"Princess!" The two guards were in her doorway now, and the sight of them gave Yuffie a burst of fear-laden energy that sent her scrambling onto the roof. Swinging around, she saw a small dark-clad figure running across the blue tiles, heading toward town.

"Torikooooo!" Yuffie shouted, at once giving chase. Her sneakers slipped a little on the blue tiles, but it wasn't the first time she'd gone running on the roof; she was used to it. For all that she was a hundred feet away, the older girl stopped and turned, the faint glimmer of her gray-green eyes visible even at that distance. Yuffie yelled again. "Waaait!"

"What do you think you're doing?" Toriko demanded, running back to her.

"I want to come with you!"

"What!" Toriko looked stunned. "No!"

"Yes!" Yuffie stamped her foot. They were on the high wall now, standing on the partition between the palace and the rest of the capital. "Look, our dads are in the same place tonight! If my dad's in trouble then _your_ dad's in trouble, and you're going to help him, right?" She pointed at the long, thin thing that Toriko had resting on her shoulder. "That's his sword, right?"

"And I'm only going to deliver it," Toriko said, shaking her head. "I'm not going to fight."

"Then why are you armed?" Yuffie said, pointing at the two swords Toriko had sheathed at her hip and shoulder.

"For defensive purposes!" Swinging her father's sheathed sword and nearly knocking Yuffie off the wall, Toriko snapped, "Princess, go back! You don't even have any combat training!"

"I do too!" Whipping off her mega-shuriken, Yuffie spun it confidently and said, "I've been fighting since I was eight years old—"

"And you're what, nine now?"

"Almost ten!" Yuffie flared. "And how long have _you_ been fighting, anyway?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm older, stronger, and a lot meaner than you. I've also taken adults down before, so I'm going to be fine." Toriko pointed back at the palace. "Now go home, and—"

"I don't have to listen to you!"

"Yes you do. I'm older."

"I'm the Princess, I don't have to listen to anybody!"

Toriko's eyes flared. "You little brat!"

"You're a brat too!"

"Don't make me hit you," the older girl threatened.

"Go right ahead," Yuffie said, thrusting out her chin. "I'll hit you right back."

Toriko raised her fist and for a moment, Yuffie seriously thought the older girl was going to clobber her. Well, fine then: Yuffie braced herself for impact and glared at her, daring her to do her worst. Toriko swung—and then stopped, shaking her head.

"I'm wasting time," she said, and jumped off the wall. Yuffie grabbed the sheath of the Demon's sword just as the older girl took off and shrieked as she went flying through the air, impossibly long and high off the wall. The ground spun dizzily under her and Yuffie felt nauseous.

Toriko grunted as she landed on the stone buttress of a nearby temple and stumbled, almost falling off. Yuffie screamed again as Toriko swung her around on the sword, almost flinging her off, and brought her face-to-face, holding the massive sword and Yuffie's clinging weight one-handed. Yuffie had just enough time to wonder how strong Toriko was before the older girl started shaking her and yelling, "You idiot! Do you have any idea how close we came to injury from that little stunt? You messed up my balance so bad we could have fallen off the roof!"

"Listen, there are people in the palace who might be trying to kill me!" Yuffie said quickly, seeing the pure rage in the older girl's eyes. It dimmed slightly as she went on, saying, "I'll be safer with you. I promise I won't weigh you down," she finished, recalling one of the classic pacifying lines from her animes.

Toriko growled, but the sound had a note of resignation in it. Setting Yuffie down on the stone buttress, she said, "At least get on my back or something. You're throwing my balance off by hanging on the end like that."

"Okay," Yuffie said, trying not to grin. Hopping onto the older girl piggy-back, she said, "Want me to hold your dad's sword?"

"You'd probably drop it. And I need it to correct my balance while we're jumping anyway. Now hold on, and don't scream in my ear."

"Right."

"When we get to the Lotus, you do exactly what I tell you and nothing more. Got it?"

"Yes."

"If you disobey me, I will slap you so hard that your head will spin off and they'll use your neck for a screw."

"I understand."

Toriko mulled for a moment, obviously trying to figure out if she had missed anything: Yuffie poked her cheek and said, "We're wasting time..."

"Right." Hitching Yuffie's weight on her back, Toriko ran up the stone buttress and crouched: Yuffie could feel her muscles tensing as she prepared for a jump. The younger girl shut her eyes tightly and swallowed her screams as Toriko jumped, sailing through the air and toward battle.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Impetuous little girls: they're going to be in so much trouble... And Rude's going to be in even more trouble for letting them get away...

As for the palace guards, decide for yourself if they were being normal or conspirators. I tried to make the dialogue work either way, but be slightly tinted by Yuffie's paranoia.

Okay, I'm going to stop typing for a bit. I've been on brief whee ever since the Wutai arc started, so my right shoulder is laughing and flipping me the bird right now: in other words, it hurts. In fact, my whole right arm hurts, right to the shoulderblade, and I think I might be getting carpal tunnel. Suck.

/\/\/\/\/\


	91. Homoerotic bonus

PYLO Random Bonus!

5.25.06

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PYLO (Put Your Lights On) is a fanfiction by kleptomaniac0, which therefore by definition mean that the FFVII characters do not belong to the author and ergo do not garner any profit for said person. If sued, the author will simultaneously freeze and combust. This will result in a local hailstorm of flaming comets. Therefore... Yeah, you get the picture.

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Something for Silver Whirl. Hell, some homoerotic fun for all of you. Remember when Dulles asked Sephiroth over to his birthday party so they could smoke alcohol? This is what happened.

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Not everyone in the Seventh could be there for Dulles' thirty-fourth birthday, but that was all right; Papo was there and he was the important one, because he had the hooka with alcohol. After warming the spirits for a few minutes, the seven men who were there—Dulles, Zenri, Papo, Adrian, Fenwick, Zack, and—surprise, surprise—the General took a quick, experimental hit. It was almost picture-worthy to see the silver-haired General gingerly inhaling the fumes, but Dulles figured it was better not to have such documentation.

"Holy crack!" Papo exclaimed, his eyes watering. He sneezed, rubbing his nose.

"That was fast," Dulles coughed. His head, however, was swimming quite pleasantly, as it had not done for years since entering SOLDIER—well, not exactly years. Dulles still drank, he just regretted it later. Nonalcoholic beer was quickly becoming his friend, but if there was a way to get drunk without hangovers, then...

He glanced at Sephiroth to see how he was doing and was surprised to see the younger man looking completely out of it. He was actually smiling a little, staring at something on the far wall in a bemused manner, and when Dulles keened his ears he could actually hear him humming. Wow.

"I don't know why I didn't do this before," he said when he noticed Dulles looking at him. "This is actually kind of nice."

"See, there ya go!" Zack said, just a little too loudly; the boy was obviously a happy, touchy drunk, because he clapped Sephiroth warmly on the shoulder and promptly fell onto him, practically hugging him in order to stay upright. The eight of them were sitting on the floor: there was furniture, but nowhere for all seven of them to sit properly. Plus, it was chummier this way. Very chummy, Dulles noted with raised brow as Zack actually began to snuggle up to the still absently smiling General. "Wow," Zack said, giggling and looking up at Sephiroth. "You get really hot when you're drunk. Wait..."

Zenri snorted and started laughing, braying like a donkey. Dulles had never heard such a ridiculous laugh. He started laughing too, which of course set everyone else off... As Dulles fell over backwards onto the floor, clutching his sides, he wondered what a second hit would do if the first one was this potent.

Several hours later, they were all thoroughly drunk. Papo, marginally the soberest of the lot, had wisely hidden the hooka so none of them could get any more plastered. Now the six of them—Fenwick was a boring, pass-out drunk and was now sleeping on the couch—were clustered around Dulles' computer, playing with something called "The Mechanical Contrivivum."

"Do Fenwick, do Fenwick!" Zack said excitedly, shaking Zenri as he typed Fenwick's name into the entry box. "He's sleeping! Let's see what we get!"

A single randomly generated fact popped up on the screen, saying, "**When provoked, Fenwick will swivel the tip of his abdomen and shoot a jet of boiling chemicals at his attacker."**

Adrian burst out laughing. "First time I've heard it called that!"

"Hehehe..." Zenri quickly typed in 'Dulles', which came up with the following result.

**"When sleeping, fifteen percent of men snore, and ten percent grind their Dulles."**

"What the hell?" Dulles exclaimed, dismayed.

"Whoa now..." Papo leaned away from him, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Cappy, I don't know what the hell you do in bed, but—"

"Shut up!" Dulles took a swing at him and nearly tripped over Sephiroth, who had fallen on the floor with laughter a while ago. He was still there now, giggling senselessly in the throes of 'alcohol makes everything much funnier than it should be', and he showed no signs of moving. Dulles looked down at him, wondered if he needed to pick Sephiroth off the floor, and looked up as he heard a great screaming hoot of laughter.

"What?" He demanded, lunging forward to look at the screen. By his side, he could feel Sephiroth pushing himself onto his knees, also curious; Dulles felt him hooking his fingers into his belt loop to pull himself up. "What is...whoa."

**"Sephiroth has a bifurcated penis."**

There was a long moment of silence. Then as one, the men of the Seventh turned to look at their drunken high commander, who was kneeling on the floor, looking at the computer screen, and smiling in a benign and so-not-with-it manner.

"Well do you?" Zack asked owlishly.

"No," Sephiroth said, shaking his head.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm very sure."

"I think we need proof," Zenri said, turning in the chair. "As a medic, this is important for me to see."

"I don't have one," Sephiroth said, still pleasant, still shaking his head.

"What's bifurcated mean?" Adrian whispered to Dulles.

"It means there's two of them," Dulles whispered back.

Adrian did a double take at the screen. "You mean...!"

"No," Sephiroth said. He was shaking his head a little faster now, and since he'd been doing it for almost a minute, Dulles wondered if he was getting something out of it. He seemed to recall hearing somewhere that shaking one's head made one drunker faster and longer.

"I think you need to show us," Zack said solemnly, or as solemnly as he could manage in his drunken state. "Sir, you need to drop your pants."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes," Zack said, this time joined by Papo.

"No," Sephiroth said a little louder.

"Yes," Zack and Papo and now Zenri said, louder than him.

"Come on!" Papo pointed at him. "Look at you! I bet you don't have anything to be ashamed of."

"Of course not," the General said, still composed while drunk. "But if I'm pantless, so is everyone else."

There was a moment of silence. Then Adrian shrugged and grabbed his belt, saying, "Fair enough."

So everyone took off their pants. Not their boxers or their briefs, just their pants. It was more comfortable that way, as well as less embarrassing. For a moment, Sephiroth bifurcated penis was forgotten until Zenri looked back at the computer screen.

"Hey..." he said, looking at Sephiroth. The silver-haired man looked downright odd, sitting on the floor cross-legged in an oxford shirt and boxers. "Sir... We still need to see."

"No," Sephiroth said.

"We'll get naked too," Zack offered.

"Still no," Sephiroth said firmly.

"I bet it really is bifurcated," Adrian said, grinning.

"_Tri_furcated," Papo snickered.

"He's a tentacle monster!" Zack laughed, waving his arms—for emphasis? Funniness's sake? Dulles stared at him, trying to figure out it.

"In any case, it is a medical mystery." Zenri said, getting up majestically—the fact that he was still drunk and stumbled a little was lost in the absurdity of the moment. Grabbing the chair behind him to keep from losing his balance, he said grandly, "Gentlemen—hold him down."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Dulles said even as Zack and Adrian threw themselves on the half-undressed, now completely startled Sephiroth and began wrestling with him.

"Come on, man," Zenri said, clapping him on the back. "It's all drunken fun. Like as not he'll not remember what's going on; he seems to have it worse out of all of us."

"Get off me!" Sephiroth shouted, though he still sounded drunk.

"Just stay down like a good boy!" Adrian bellowed back, trying to grab one of his arms and failing. "Stop fighting!"

Adrian and Zack suddenly went flying. Sephiroth shot to his feet, all seventy-three inches of him aglow with sudden temper. His green eyes blazed with fire and Dulles's drunk buzz was totally consumed by it, vanishing in a flash of emerald. A chill went down Dulles's spine as the General took a step forward...

_"Shit," _Dulles thought with a chill. _"I haven't seen him look that crazy since the war."_

Sephiroth stepped forward, and stepped forward again. Dulles froze as he approached...and then passed him, still moving with the deliberate slowness of a drunk man trying not to fall down. Dulles turned and stared as Sephiroth went to his open closet, walked inside, and then shut the door behind him. There was a clicking noise as Sephiroth locked it from inside.

"..." Zenri's stare was quite eloquent.

"What the fuck just happened?" Papo demanded.

"Ow..." Zack moaned, sitting up; the General had thrown him quickly but hard, banging him into the wall but not putting him through it. Still, landing on your head wasn't pleasant for anybody. "That hurt..."

"Yeah," Adrian said, sitting up and wincing; he had landed on his back. "Where'd the General go?"

"He's in the closet," Papo said, pointing.

"The closet?" Zack frowned. "Why?"

"I don't know."

Dulles walked up to the closet door and tapped it experimentally. "Sir?"

"Go away!" Sephiroth shouted back; for some reason he sounded younger, as well as... Well, in a different man, it might have been called scared.

"Sir, it's Dulles!" Dulles said, perplexed. "What are you doing in there?"

"Hiding."

Well, duh. "From what?"

"From the raping!"

Dulles stopped and stared at the door for a while. Behind him, he heard Adrian yelp as someone punched him in the arm.

"Smart move, jackass," Papo said caustically.

Dulles raked his hand through his hair and took a deep breath, steeling himself for what had to be the weirdest thing he had said in years. "Please come out of there, sir. None of us here are going to rape you."

"Bloody fuggin' likely!"

Dulles raked his hand through his hair. Out of all the things he could have imagined Sephiroth to be afraid of, rape certainly wasn't one of them. And yet...

_"I remember when he was just starting out in the army... Tall, slender, but not spindly, the faggots were drooling over him. And back then he couldn't have been that strong, so maybe..."_

The mental image, the idea made him sick. Dulles took another deep breath and looked at the guys.

"Well, he'll come out when he feels like it," he said, trying to be cavalier. "In the mean time—"

He turned as he heard a knocking on the door, followed by a "Hellooooo?"

"Hellooo?" Dulles called back, rising to his feet. "Who's there?"

"It's the Turks," a different voice floated back. "We're supposed to pick up the General."

"You are?"

"Yes. Would you mind letting us in?"

Dulles glanced at the closet and then at the door, shrugging. Let a drunk and paranoid Sephiroth be someone else's problem. He walked over to the door and opened it, remembering at the last second that he was still wearing no pants.

There were three Turks there, looking professional and crisp—well, two of them did. One of them looked like he had just rolled out of bed. The rumpled one looked at him with raised brows, staring pointedly at his pantless legs.

"Party?" He asked brightly, looking back at Dulles's face.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Dulles said, suppressing the urge to blush. Stepping back, he let the Turks come into the apartment and watched their faces twitch as they noted everyone else being pantless as well. "He's in there," Dulles said, pointing at the closet.

"What?" The leader, a Wutaiese man, said incredulously.

Dulles leaned over and jiggled the closet's doorknob, which made Sephiroth explode with an outburst of foreign swears. The Wutaiese Turk's brows rose.

"You guys been drinking?" The tall, bald Turk said; he had been sniffing the air.

"Yep," Adrian said, nodding.

The Wutaiese Turk sighed. "Wonderful..." Walking over to the closet door, he stood in front of it for a moment, as if wondering what part to talk through, before clearing his throat and saying, "Sir? It's Tseng of the Turks."

A terse "Hello, Tseng," came from inside the closet.

"How are you?" Tseng asked politely, even graciously.

"I'm fine." A pause. "A little bit drunk."

"I see. Would you like to go home?"

"Yes."

Tseng smiled. "Very good, sir. Shall we be off, then?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't have my pants on."

Dulles clapped his hand over his mouth at the look on Tseng's face. There were no words to describe the complete blankness of it, the utter and total "whaaat" look on it. Turning stiffly to the rest of the SOLDIERS in the apartment, he said, "I don't suppose...?"

"They're somewhere around here," Zenri said with a snicker, teeth brilliant white against his dark skin.

"Somewhere." Tseng repeated.

"I think I found them!" The rumpled one said, skittering over to the couch and triumphantly holding up a pair of dark slacks. "Yep, I sure did! Look how long these are!"

The bald Turk clapped dryly. Tseng turned back to the closet door. "Sir, we found your p-pants." He took a deep breath, running his hand over his mouth as he threatened to burst out laughing. Dulles admired the degree of self-control Tseng had as he quickly got himself under control. "Ah, um... Shall we go now?"

"Yes." Dulles jumped as the door swung open, almost hitting him in the face. The magnificently drunken General stood in the doorway, holding himself up on the frame. He didn't seem to notice the Turks staring at his pantsless legs.

"You..." He said, looking blearily at Tseng. "You...do your job."

"Yes sir," Tseng said, his voice completely soothing.

"You don't let them rape me."

"Of course not, sir." Tseng said, nodding with a perfectly straight face. "I and the rest of the Turks swear no one will rape you."

"Yup," Reno said, raising his hand. Rude just nodded.

"Good," Sephiroth said, and pitched forward.

"Whoa, whoa!" Dulles caught the man as he fell, staggering from his weight. Jeez, what was it about alcohol that made people, like, five times heavier? "Sir? Hello?" He jiggled Sephiroth's limp body, saying, "Hello?" again.

"Zzzz..."

Dulles looked helplessly at Tseng, who was stepping forward to take Sephiroth.

"Is he going to be okay?" He asked, shifting some of the unconscious man's weight to him.

"He'll be fine," Tseng said, sounding exasperated. "Reno! Come over here and put his pants back on!"

"Why do I have to do it?"

"Because you're holding them!"

Reno promptly threw the pants at his bald compatriot, who looked at then for a moment, shrugged, and then walked over to Sephiroth. Reno pouted.

"Aww, we're not going to play pants-toss?" He asked, jogging over.

"You and Rude can play pants-toss on your own time," Tseng snapped. "Right now, we're putting _his_," and he jiggled the softly snoring Sephiroth for emphasis. "Back on."

"You've got such a stick up your ass, boss," Reno said as he helped his bald friend dress the General. Now Dulles really wished he had a camera. "You need to get out more. When's the last time you got laid?"

"That is _none _of your business!"

"Done," the bald Turk said, zipping up the fly with professional detachment.

"Good." Tseng hefted Sephiroth's weight and said, "Rude, if you don't mind?"

"No problem," Rude said, picking up the unconscious General and slinging him over his shoulder. His hair nearly brushed the ground.

"Have fun with the rest of your party!" Reno said brightly as the three of them exited. Everyone winced as Sephiroth's head banged off against the frame, but thankfully the silver-haired man did not wake. Laughing nervously, Reno shut the door and Dulles heard their steps going down the hall.

Zack started laughing first, when the last footfalls had echoed and faded. Papo joined in, followed by Adrian and Zenri. Dulles started snickering, covering his face. This was definitely a birthday he was never going to forget.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Did you enjoy the silliness? I enjoy the silliness.

The Mechanical Contrivivum is a real thing. It's awesome. If you want to have mindless fun, go play with it online. It gives you ten weird facts instead of just one, so hours of hilarity ensue.

I've never smoked alcohol, so I don't exactly know what the procedure is... I do, however, now know that you _can_ get hangovers off the fumes! These men are not in for fun times in the morning! Oops. That's what you get for debauchery!

And the Turks were there because Toriko called and said she was worried about her dad. And in the beginning, I was trying to type "Holy crap!" but "Holy crack" came out instead and it just seemed to fit better... Yay, sensical typos!

/\

And I'm buying a week with this bonus. Things will be hectic in my offline life for a while, so I'm taking a break. Thanks for being understanding!

/\/\/\/\/\


	92. Chapter 84

Put Your Lights On

5.8.06

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

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Chapter Eighty-Four

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Toriko slowed as she approached the Blue Lotus. It wasn't that she was tired—she was starting to realize that normal limits simply did not apply to her—it was that she could see, perched on the three-tiered roof of the Blue Lotus, several archers positioned to aim both in and out of the Lotus. Cunningly hidden in the shadows, she had almost mistaken them for gargoyles or dragons. She paused out of their range of sight, wondering what the best approach was.

"Why are we stopping?" Yuffie asked her, instinctively whispering.

"Archers," Toriko whispered back.

"That's not good."

"It most definitely is not."

Toriko hopped off the roof and landed in Wutai's flagstoned streets, retreating at once into the shadows. Quietly letting Yuffie off her back, Toriko hesitated for a moment before drawing one of her swords; she was still holding onto the Masamune with her other hand. Her blade stuck in the sheath, so new that it hadn't even been oiled yet. Tugging on the blade, Toriko drew her newest present from her mother for the first time.

"Ooo, _sakabatou_." Yuffie's eyes lit up in interest. "I've never seen one of those before!"

"Neither have I," Toriko said, inspecting the reverse-bladed sword. Nanashi had not taught her much blade lore, but Toriko knew enough to recognize the rarity of the blade, as well as the skill of the one who had made it; _sakabatou_ were hard to find, almost legendary, for more than one reason. Looking at the fine watered finish of the steel, Toriko realized with a chuckle that the metal in her blade was better than that of the Masamune: the wave pattern, along with the unique edge, made Toriko think that Seishi had had the swords commissioned. Testing her thumb on the edge of her sword, Toriko winced when it cut cleanly through her skin; yet another indication of the sword's quality, and at least she was a fast healer. Behind her and off to her side, she saw Yuffie nervously spinning her mega-shuriken in her hands.

"Stop that," she whispered. "The motion will draw people to us."

"I can't help being nervous!" Yuffie shot back.

"Work through it."

Yuffie stuck her tongue out at her and Toriko rolled her eyes. Quietly she began to trot through the streets, Yuffie running surprisingly silent on her heels.

The run to the Blue Lotus could have been a lot more nerve-wracking if Toriko's ears and eyes hadn't been so good. Almost neurotically scanning the area with every step she took, she sensed no less than five enemy fighters combing the streets as they approached the Lotus. Knowing there were that many armed people out there made Toriko nervous, and she kept the young princess close. Yuffie wisely said nothing.

When they reached the high walls of the Blue Lotus, Toriko and Yuffie flattened themselves against the wall to hide themselves from the archers still on the roof. This close, Toriko could hear them muttering.

"Anyone see anything?"

"All clear."

"Hey, what's going on inside?"

"They're rounding up the prisoners—looks like dangerous ones on one side and non-dangerous ones on the other."

"What's the Demon doing?"

"Still twitching."

_"Twitching?"_ Toriko thought, worry striking at her core. Gathering her thoughts, she tried to call out to Sephiroth. _"Father! Father, are you there?" _

Nothing. The barrier he had put between them last night was still in place, which Toriko hoped was a good sign. He couldn't maintain if it he was dead, right? Surely things would feel different if he were dead? Looking at Yuffie, Toriko could see that the young girl was flushed with excitement. The huge grin she had on her face made Toriko smiled weakly; so Yuffie thought this was a great adventure, eh?

_"Hopefully it's going to stay that way..."_

Toriko looked up and blinked as she saw two wide gray eyes shining at her from a distant alley. Someone had spotted them, shit! At once she grabbed Yuffie and swung the younger girl behind her; Yuffie flung her arms around Toriko's neck and Toriko jumped hard, pitching herself over the twenty-foot wall. There were shouts of amazement and alarm.

"What the hell?"

"Shoot it, shoot it!"

There was a metallic pang and Yuffie shrieked, her small arms tightening around Toriko's neck. _"Shit, she's hit!" _Toriko realized, throwing a glance over her shoulder. Yuffie's face was white and frightened. _ "Damn it! I should have curled over her..."_

Hitting the ground with a soft thump, Toriko shot for the nearest clump of bushes and slung Yuffie off her back, panic making her heart run like a rabbit's.

"Where'd they hit you?" She demanded, grabbing the younger girl and looking at her back, her shoulders.

"Nowhere. It bounced off my shuriken." Yuffie sniffled and tried to smile, saying, "That was scary."

Toriko sighed, weak with relief. "At least it wasn't fatal."

_"And at least no one's going to kill me for getting the Princess hurt."_

Yuffie nodded bravely, biting her lip. "Where to now?"

"I'm going to put you someplace safe," Toriko said. "And then I'll deliver the sword to my father. Then we're out of here, alright?"

"What, we're not going to take these guys down?"

"Neither of us have the experience and you nearly got killed. No."

_"I'll stick her in Mother's house for the time being."_

Tmp, tmp. Toriko and Yuffie froze as footsteps came toward them, and Toriko saw ninja feet approaching their hiding place. Glancing up, she saw cold steel gleaming above.

_"And it just keeps getting worse—"_

Flipping the Masamune off her shoulder like a lever, Toriko whacked her and Yuffie's would-be assailant in his head—she hoped. In any case, the sheath made contact with something and the person yelled, drawing attention to their hiding place. Toriko hissed, "Stay here!" to Yuffie before jumping out of the bush and brandishing the sheathed Masamune like an oversized bat.

It was worse that she'd thought. There were _three_ ninjas in front of her, not one, and all were armed with live steel. All of them, however, were surprised.

"A little girl?" One of them actually said, stunned.

They seemed hesitant to attack, but Toriko had no such compunctions. Swinging the Masamune as hard as she could, she caught the three ninjas in their waists and flung them against the high wall: she was stunned when they hit it so hard that the wall shook, their bodies stirring up dust. They fell to the ground in an ungraceful heap of limb, tangled and unmocing. Toriko stared at their still bodies, the sheathed Masamune lowering in her hands.

_"That was too easy... I mean, they were off-guard and couldn't have reacted all that fast, but just how strong am I? Father said I was at about the level of a Second-Class SOLDIER, but what does that mean? Are those ninjas dead or only stunned? What exactly did I do to them?" _

Toriko suddenly remembered where she was and looked around quickly, checking for enemies, before glancing back at the bush. "Come on," she whispered to Yuffie, and the little girl pulled herself from the foliage.

_"I'd better have her run in front of me... There are still archers on the roof."_

She repeated her thought to Yuffie, who looked nodded impatiently. Toriko suppressed a growl of annoyance at the girl's cavalier spirit. Pointing out Seishi's house to the young princess, Toriko followed Yuffie as she sprinted for it, the nine-year-old girl shockingly fast for her age. Two arrows came flying at them and Toriko batted them out of the air with mere flicks of the wrist, surprised at how easy it was.

_"I'm only twelve, and yet I've taken down four trained adults today without even breaking a sweat. I've run across town, jumping from roof to roof, with forty pounds of weaponry and sixty-five pounds of girl on my back, and I'm not even tired. I'm swatting arrows out of the air and thinking that they're SLOW..."_

_"...I really must be a freak of some kind. The only question is, can I blame it all on Hojo? Somehow I think not..."_

Behind her, she heard Yuffie fling open the door and jump in; Toriko leapt in backwards, throwing the door shut behind them. She stepped back as arrows punctured the screen door, their archers vainly hoping to hit her; Toriko contemptuously kicked one of them and turned around.

"Princess?"

"I'm here," Yuffie said, her voice muffled; she was covering her mouth, disgust in her eyes. "What's that smell?"

"You'll get used to it," Toriko said, looking around. "Mo—Aunt Seishi? Auntie?"

"Who's there?" asked a small, cracking voice. Toriko turned and saw a young girl, one her own age, stepping hesitantly out of a side corridor. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" Toriko demanded, raising her sword. More arrows thudded through the screen door, making Toriko jump and the other two girls scream. "Damn it... Let's get out of this room."

"My name is Yoko," the girl said, retreating into the hall as Toriko and Yuffie trotted over. "I'm one of Lady Seishi's handmaids."

"I'm her niece," Toriko said, and saw understanding flash across Yoko's eyes.

"This way, then," Yoko said, nodding over her shoulder.

"Yuffie, come on," Toriko said, nodding at the princess. As they followed Yoko deeper into the house, Toriko asked, "Yoko, where _is_ Lady Seishi? And what's going on?"

"Suzu betrayed us," Yoko said bitterly. "She's taken Lord Godo and his guests hostage. And Lady Seishi's in the basement."

_"Father..." _The brief stab of pain Toriko felt turned into a flicker of anger, and then a full-out fire. _"Father, you jackass! How could you not tell me? Are you that angry with me still? You petty, selfish... Ohh!_

_"...please be safe."_

The basement was shallow and only partially sunk, more like a Continental basement than a Wutaiese; there were windows, solid bricks of glass, lining the top of it. Seishi sat in the middle of it, Tsukiko at her side, her one eye lighting up as Toriko came down the stairs.

"Tori-chan!" She exclaimed, staring. "Thank the gods, you're safe!" Seishi frowned, tilting her head. "And...is that Her Highness?"

"There were assassins in the palace, Auntie, and she thought it would be safer with me," Toriko said testily. "Yoko tells us that we have a hostage situation?"

"Yes," Seishi said, nodding. "The entire place is filled with traditionalist hotheads now. We used to have mercenaries, but they've been taken control of."

"Taken control of? How?"

Seishi made an impatient gesture with one hand. "Somewhere in the Blue Lotus there's an array of Manipulate materia that's keeping them in thrall: if that were broken or the casting mage—a little eel named Fuhito—were killed, we'd have a chance of getting out of this alive. As it is, those idiots have Lord Godo and the Continentals as hostages. At least some of them are going to die."

"No!" Yuffie cried, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Why hasn't the Demon done anything?" Toriko asked, frowning. "He's not the kind of man who sits by while people point things at his throat."

"We can only assume he's either dead or incapacitated," Seishi said bluntly. Toriko tried not to flinch at her mother's matter-of-fact tone. "What are you doing here?"

Toriko tapped the Masamune on her shoulder. "I thought he'd need his weapon, but..."

Seishi nodded, her gaze softening. "It was a good gesture."

"Don't use the past tense, he may not be dead yet." Yet... Toriko pushed the pain away and thought for a moment. "The Turk watching me has probably called the Garrison out. We can expect this place to be stormed by Shin-Ra forces at any time."

_"Unless he's doing the dumb thing and running right after me... Come to think of it, I have no idea about how Rude would act in this situation. I just don't know that much about him..."_

"Good," Seishi said, painfully sitting back down; Tsukiko helped her ease herself to the ground. "An end to all this mess, then."

"Wait, what about my dad?" Yuffie demanded, grabbing Toriko's sleeve and yanking insistently. "What's going to happen to him?"

Toriko glanced at Seishi, who said, "Your Highness, the traditionalists are very unhappy with your father. It's entirely possible that—"

"NO!" Yuffie screamed, and the tears that had been threatening to wobble out of her eyes ever since the arrow spilled down her cheeks, instantly making her look years younger. "No, they can't!" She looked desperately at Toriko. "Do something!"

"I'm not really a fighter," Toriko said uncomfortably, looking away.

"Yes you are! You were kicking _major butt_ out there!" Yuffie grabbed her shirt, looking up at her with huge, watery gray eyes. The barely restrained panic on her face matched what Toriko felt, bubbling silently below her calm façade. "Please do something..." Yuffie begged. "Please?"

"I forbid you," Seishi said coldly, her one eye narrowing. Toriko glanced at her as she said, "You're too young and you've done too much already. You're staying here."

"Don't listen to that old hag!" Yuffie snapped, grabbing Toriko by the lapels and dragging her down to face her. "Listen to me! I'm your Princess! You _have_ to obey me!"

"It's out of my hands," Toriko said quietly, gently pulling Yuffie's hands from her shirt. "Yuffie, I'm good, but I can't pull off a rescue all by myself."

"I'll help you!"

Toriko almost laughed. "You barely know how to fight!"

"I can use materia!" Yuffie said desperately.

"...you can?"

"Tori, NO." Seishi said at once.

Yuffie nodded, a smile of terrible hope starting to grow on her face. "I'm really good, I swear!"

Toriko thought deeply, deaf to Seishi's repeated 'no's'. A part of her was telling her she was stupid, but she had come so far already and she knew it would be a while before the Garrison reinforcements arrived...

_"Plus if something happens to Father, I'm totally fucked. Too bad it's not Hojo and President Shin-Ra in there instead of him."_

"Come on," she said to Yuffie, grabbing her hand. "We've got work to do."

"YES!" Yuffie whooped.

Seishi hurled her walking stick at her, hitting Toriko in the head so hard that she stumbled into the basement wall. Rubbing the back of her head and turning around, Toriko saw her mother pushing herself to her feet without the cane, rage lending her a precarious strength. "NO!" Seishi repeated, her harsh voice cracking. "Shusaku no Toriko Shin-Ra, you will NOT go out and fight!"

"I'm very sorry, Auntie," Toriko said, bowing deeply. Picking up Seishi's cane, she walked to her mother and placed it in her hands, murmuring, "But like I said, right now that man needs me more. I hope you can understand..."

A sudden noise from upstairs made Toriko freeze. Someone had come into the house, was trying to sneak down the hall and into the basement. Toriko yanked her second sword out of her sheath and turned to face the stairs, her eyes narrowed.

_"I should have known someone would follow me and Yuffie into this house..."_ She thought, her jaw tightening.

"What?" Yuffie asked, frowning.

"Get away from the stairs," Toriko whispered. "Someone's coming."

"I don't hear anything," Yuffie said, her frown deepening.

"Remember what I said about heads and screws, Yuffie?"

"..." Yuffie scowled, but nonetheless scampered away from the stairs, taking refuge in a far corner of the room. Behind her, Toriko could hear Seishi, Yoko, and Tsukiko also retreating.

The person came down, and it was a black-clad ninja armed with a short sword, a _wakizashi_. Toriko almost lunged at him before remembering Seishi's comment about Manipulate materia and mercenaries: she wondered if that were the case with him and almost lowered her swords, but the memory of Nanashi ruthlessly disarming her way too many times kept her frozen in the 'ready' position.

Which was just as well, since the ninja spotted her and charged. At once adrenaline shot through Toriko's veins and she ran in to meet him, her mind ringing with Nanashi's advice.

_"If you're smaller than your opponent, do not run away. Do not give him the reach he needs to hurt you. Get close to him, work in his blind spot, and take advantage of the fact that you're more mobile."_

The man swung at her and Toriko ducked, much too fast; for a moment, she was startled by her own reflexes. From a run, she suddenly found herself in a crouch, and she wondered for a moment if she had fallen before realizing that, above her, the ninja was still swinging. Toriko wondered what the best way to deal with him was.

_"I don't want to kill him, but I can't let him be a threat to Mother or the other girls..."_

Toriko wondered if it was possible to actually explode a man's testicles as she shot up from her crouch and slammed the flats of her swords into the ninja's crotch. She was close enough to see his eyes roll up into his head as he collapsed in a dead faint, and Toriko sprang back before he fell on her. She stepped back, staring at him as he lay prone on the floor, and again was disturbed at how easy dispatching him had been. Either these ninjas sucked or she was just that good...

"Booyah!' Yuffie whooped, and then, "YAHH!"

"What are you doing!" Toriko demanded as the young princess suddenly hurled her mega-shuriken; she ducked, the oversized throwing star whizzing harmlessly past her head. But even as she yelled, she knew Yuffie would not have thrown at nothing, and she turned just in time to see a very surprised ninja at the top of the stairs, his head jerking back as Yuffie's practice weapon hit him squarely in the head—the sound of metal on bone was almost a 'bonk'.

"Score!" Yuffie cheered, throwing her hands into the air.

The little brat had some skill, Toriko grudgingly admitted. Unfortunately, she did not have the strength to back it up, being only nine years old and all, and the ninja didn't even stagger. Picking up the mega-shuriken, he glanced at it for a second before looking at Toriko.

"You're pretty strong, little girl," he commented. "No wonder you got in here all by yourself."

"Hey, what about—"

"Shut up, melonhead!" Toriko snapped at Yuffie over her shoulder; she put just enough venom into her voice to startle the princess into silence. To the ninja, Toriko said, "Are you with the conspirators?"

The ninja's eyes glimmered in amusement. "What if I am?"

"Then you have a problem," Toriko said serenely.

"**I **have a problem?" He laughed and drew a pair of sickles from behind his back, whirling them with deadly competency. "I think you're mistaken."

"I think not." She said. And without further adieu, Toriko sprinted up the stairs and punched him square in the face.

He actually flew across the house. Since he had been standing at the top of the basement stairs, he went soaring down the long hall leading to them and landed in the sitting room, sliding over the polished floors. Toriko stared; it was a good thirty feet from where he had been standing.

_"...did I kill him?"_

A sudden wave of nausea nearly made her stagger. Toriko heard the rapid patter of footsteps behind her and instinctively swung her sword to the side; the flat of the blade slapped against Yuffie's chest, preventing her from going any more up the stairs. "Ow!" The younger girl yelped, and pinched her on the arm. "That hurt!"

"Getting killed would hurt more," Toriko said acidly, looking down at her. "What happened to obeying me no matter what?"

"You never _told_ me not to follow you."

"...Your father needs to beat you more."

Yuffie made a face at her before looking down the hall. "Wow! You must be super strong or something! That guy really flew."

Toriko almost snorted. "I just hope he's not dead."

"One less after us, right?"

Toriko looked at Yuffie and realized that the girl had no real sense of her words. She spoke with the naïve directness of someone who had never taken a life. Toriko hadn't either, but she had a pretty good idea of how she would feel afterwards. Her stomach was still roiling, though part of that might have been impatience and disgust with Yuffie's immature behavior.

_"But then again, this is only how normal children act... They don't know what consequences are..."_

"You are a _such_ a melonhead," Toriko said, taking Yuffie by the hand; it would be one hell of a job, watching this little idiot. "If you didn't know how to use materia, I'd leave you here."

"But I'm much too cute, aren't I?" Yuffie said cheekily.

"Yes, if 'cute' stands for 'cheeky, unabashed, tyrannical, and exasperating.'"

Yuffie scowled. "Stop using words I don't know!"

"Start studying, then! God, I should just leave you here!"

"I'll bite you!"

"You'll bite... How old are you, five?"

"I'm NINE!"

"The way you act, what's the difference?"

"Toriko."

Toriko turned and saw Seishi looking at her, dark gray eyes hooded and somber. Toriko bit her lip, wondering what her mother was going to say. "Yes, Auntie?"

"I'm never going to forgive you for this, you know," the bandaged woman said, closing her eye. "Deliberately putting yourself in danger... And for **him**..."

Toriko swallowed hard and blinked back a rush of tears. Unexpectedly, Yuffie came to her defense. "Hey," the little princess snapped. "At least she's _doing_ something! Leave her alone!"

"Be quiet when your elders are talking," Seishi snapped, but Toriko turned around. "Toriko, I'm not done with you yet."

"You certainly seem to be, Aunt," Toriko said, looking upwards; maybe the tears would drain back that way. "No matter what your feelings are, I'm still going."

"I know." A pause. "Be careful. I love you."

"I love you too, Auntie." Gesturing with one of her swords, Toriko said, "Let's go, Yuffie. And don't be an idiot this time."

"Meanie." Yuffie stuck out her tongue. "I'll be good. Just make sure you don't give me idiot orders."

"Fair enough." Toriko walked up the stairs, Yuffie on her heels. Behind her, she thought she heard Seishi sigh. /\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

WHEE!

Picture of Yuffie and Toriko in this arc on dA: also another picture of grown-up Tori. The latter is very, VERY pretty... And I'm modest by nature, so you know if I'm pumping my own work it's GONNA BLOW YOUR SOCKS OFF:D Check them out.

/\

Is Toriko coming across as too powerful in this chapter? This is a serious question. Yes she's twelve years old and has had only 6 months of training, but it's Sephiroth and Nanashi who are doing it; it's fair to say that she has some skills, though at this point she's too afraid to be fully effective. To be honest, she's not even at full strength in this chapter.

And Toriko starts referring to Yuffie by her name almost unconsciously; she's been taking care of her for a goodly bit now and Yuffie doesn't really act princess-y, so the title actually slipped out of her head.

/\/\/\/\/\


	93. Chapter 85

Put Your Lights On

5.8.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Eighty-Five

/\/\/\/\/\

"What do you mean, you need proof something's actually wrong?" Rude snarled into his phone. He rarely lost his temper, but his charge had run off on him and when he'd followed her to the Blue Lotus, he'd seen her get shot at. Since a twenty-foot leap was a bit beyond his reach (Toriko must have legs like a jackrabbit) Rude had retreated a block and called the Wutaiese Garrison, requesting a division of SOLDIERS as backup. "I just told you what was wrong!"

"Yes," said the whiny bureaucrat on the other end of the line. "But seeing as you're not actually military personnel or an executive, you can't request or receive military assistance... I'm very sorry."

Rude hung up with a snarl and tucked his phone back into his pocket. He flexed his hands, trying to figure out what to do. Without Tseng, Reno, or any serious firepower, he was in no position to try to get into the Lotus himself. Yet the idea of Toriko running around, getting shot at and possibly killed, made him almost angry and desperate enough to try. Grimly adjusting his gloves, Rude stepped out from behind the house he'd been hiding behind and walked resolutely toward the Blue Lotus, taking care to hide in the shadows. Protected by the darkness and the eaves of the houses he passed, Rude almost didn't see the first archer catch on fire.

There was a booming noise and a high shriek suddenly filled the air as one of the black-clad archers shot to his feet, screaming and patting frantically at the fires that had exploded all over his clothing. At once his teammates jumped up to help him and to Rude's astonishment, three more human torches lit up the night. Wild howls of pain made lights switch on in the nearby houses, Wutaiese babble coming through the walls.

_"Thank you, Lord," _Rude prayed silently, breaking into a jog. _"I'm going to take this as a sign."_

Clambering onto the roof of a nearby house, Rude ran toward the wall of the Blue Lotus on the rooftops of Wutai, heedless of noise now that people were waking. With a grunt, he launched himself off the last clay-tiled roof and sailed over the wall, landing heavily on the grassy other side. Pain zinged up his legs, but Rude ignored it and instead reached into his pocket, pulling out and turning on his nightstick.

"No backup?" Said a terse little voice at his back, making him spin around and raise the stick above his head.

"...no," he said as Toriko stepped out of the shadows, her gray-green eyes narrowing. Lowering his electro-mag rod, he adjusted his glasses and said, "Red tape."

"Fuckers."

Rude nodded. It pretty much summed up the situation.

"I think I'm done..." said another little voice, breathless and tired. Rude tilted his head and stared as he saw Princess Yuffie on the ground behind Toriko, leaning under the shade of a low-hanging tree and wiping the sweat off her brow. A flickering high-level materia orb was in her hands. "Is that enough?"

"Yes, that's enough," Toriko said, looking at the younger girl and smiling. Her voice was strangely gentle. "Thank you."

Yuffie grinned. "You're welcome. That was _fun._"

"Yours is a happy nature," Toriko said dryly. "Stay here, alright? Rude and I are going in."

"You're not going anywhere," Rude said, looking at her and frowning.

"Who got in here first?" Toriko asked archly, looking up at him with a look of disdain that mirrored her father's. "And with a passenger, nonetheless? And don't forget I'm the one holding all the materia."

"You're too young to fight," Rude insisted.

"I took out seven ninjas all by myself," Toriko said evenly. "As well as the assassin that was on Yuffie's roof. Don't tell me I'm too young." Shifting her weight, she said, "If we move fast, we can at least get Reno and Tseng armed, and then it'll be a fight that's more to your liking, right?"

"We don't have any idea of the forces inside—"

"There's a materia array somewhere in here," Toriko said, jerking her head at the Blue Lotus building. "A Manipulate array that's controlling the Lotus's guards. If we break that..."

"Do you know where it is?"

"Manipulate materia has to be close to the affected subjects in order to work," Yuffie said from the shadows, her voice faint but confident. "And weren't there a lot of archers on the roof?"

Rude and Toriko looked at the ninja princess, and then at each other.

"You're not going on the roof," he said sternly.

"I'm not going to argue with you," Toriko said. And she didn't: crouching briefly, Toriko shot thirty feet into the air and landed solidly on the blue tiles above.

"Shit!" Rude swore in awe. Just how high could the girl jump? Above he heard the sounds of panicking and attacking, and he leapt out of the way as a body fell off the roof, landing with a meaty thump and a crack he recognized all too well. The poor bastard had broken his own neck.

_"Rest in peace," _Rude thought, nodding at the dead body. A moment of silence went by before Toriko's voice floated down from above.

"Found it. Now what?"

Rude looked at Yuffie, who shrugged. "She has to break it somehow... Maybe if she takes the Materia out of the slots?"

"...nothing's happening," Toriko called down: Rude looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing. Were her ears just that sharp too?

_"Must have been all that time she spent with Hojo..."_

"Um... I don't know, then," Yuffie said, flushing. "Maybe it takes a while to wear off?"

Contemplative silence from above. Then Toriko called down again, a new note in her voice.

"There look to be about thirty assailants inside. The Vice President, Lord Godo and his vassals are in a corner with the Wutai division President. The Turks and I guess the other bodyguards are in another." Her voice caught slightly as she said, "Father's by himself and chained to a column. He's not...moving. He appears to be unconscious."

"I'm sure he's okay," Yuffie called back softly. "The entire Wutaiese army couldn't take him down."

Toriko chuckled. Rude wished he were on the roof with her so he could see what she was seeing and make a professional assessment. His hands itched for a pair of grenades, maybe a detonator and a little C4...

_"If I could blow a hole in the wall, I could at least get Tseng and Reno some weapons... Reno's better with the electro-mag rod than I am and Tseng's a dead shot, so he can have my sidearm..."_

There was a sudden crashing noise from above and Rude swung up in alarm, his body tensing as he instinctively realized Toriko was doing something stupid. Swearing aloud, he whirled on Princess Yuffie and stuck his hand out.

"What materia is that?" He demanded.

"Um, fire...?"

"Mastered?"

"Level 3..."

Rude snatched it out of her hand and clutched the glowing orb tightly, concentrating so hard he could feel beads of sweat on his forehead. Ignoring the shouts and cries that were coming from inside, he reached deep inside the materia orb to pull out the strongest, most concentrated spell he could muster. Rude's suit fluttered as he drew energy from the earth, the materia in his hands a lens for that power. Turning his palm toward the wall and praying he wasn't going to inadvertently toast himself, Rude carefully released the spell...

...and shot off the biggest motherfucking fireball he had ever made in his life.

There was no recoil as the weather-balloon-sized comet exploded from his hand, but the heat was intense and for a moment, Rude was glad he had no hair; it would been singed off. He threw his arms in front of his face as the fireball hit the wall in a splintering, crackling crash of flame into wood, flinching as burning splinters raked across his clothes. Peeking through his arms, Rude saw beautiful, well-dressed women armed with various weapons staring blankly at him from inside the Blue Lotus.

_"Well, that's it,"_ Rude thought as he pocketed the materia and jumped through the twenty-foot hole his fireball had made. _"I'm in."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

La la la, moving right along...

Sorry for the long break. I've been busy with school. As a thank-you gift for your patience and in sympathy with your impatience, take a look at my dA page. There's a lovely picture of Auron from FFX to delight/amuse you.

/\/\/\/\/\


	94. Chapter 86

Put Your Lights On

5.9.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Eighty-Six

/\/\/\/\/\

Reno sat with the rest of the bodyguards, glaring at the female ninjas who were currently holding them prisoner. They had no guns, instead wielding long spears that looked extremely wicked and flexible. Reno had no doubt that if he tried anything, he'd been gutted before he got even two feet away. His fingers itched, missing the feel of his now-confiscated nightstick. He looked at it—and the pile of other confiscated weapons—longingly from across the room, which was ringed by beautifully dressed, grim-faced lady ninjas. Who could have guessed that nearly every cute girl in the Blue Lotus knew how to kick ass?

_"This is the first time I've ever been captured..."_ Reno thought, furious with himself and the situation._ "And there's no way to call for backup or anything. What the hell do these guys—girls—want, anyway?_

He looked around, noticing a couple things the average person might have missed. _"Whatever the case is, though, this doesn't look like a tight operation: they're all professionals, that's for sure, but they haven't been organized effectively. If I were in charge, I'd've whacked all us bodyguards and kept a couple of VIP's for hostage purposes. There's no real reason in leaving us alive... No real _smart _reason, anyway."_

Unfortunately, their captors hadn't been stupid enough to leave them unbound. Everyone considered 'dangerous' was hog-tied with thick hemp rope, except for the General—Sephiroth, looking utterly and completely stoned from whatever the lady ninjas had stuck him with, had been hauled onto his feet and then chained to one of the columns, his body almost lost beneath the amount of iron they were using on him. His head hung low, his face obscured by his long silver hair: there was no way to tell what he was thinking, or if he was even conscious. Rufus was sitting with Lord Godo, looking positively, impotently, furious. Interestingly, Dark Nation was nowhere to be seen.

_"And that's weird,"_ Reno thought with a frown, "_because I know it came in with us... Where did it go?"_

A flicker of motion made Reno glance to the side and he saw a well-dressed geisha glide in, flanked by a black-clad woman ninja and a young, crafty-looking man who somehow reminded Reno of Hojo. The geisha stopped before Sephiroth and lifted his head with her fan, tipping his chin up so she could look at him.

"So this is the face of evil..." she said in Continental—she must have been speaking it for effect, because Reno was sure her Wutaiese was less accented and contrived-sounding. "He's even more handsome up close."

_"Spit at her!" _Reno thought furiously at the catatonic General. _"Headbutt her! Do something!"_

But Sephiroth was well and truly out of it. His head flopped limply onto his chest as the woman drew her fan back, and she tapped him condescendingly on the head as she turned and walked over to where Rufus and the other VIPS were sitting. "Well, Mr. Vice President," she said with a cruel little smile. "How are you enjoying our establishment?"

Rufus shrugged. "If I'd known you ladies liked it rough, I would have brought my whips and branding irons."

The woman laughed humorlessly. "You've done enough of that, don't you think? All of Wutai bears Shin-Ra's brand now..." Her eyes flicked to Lord Godo. "Thanks to you... You yellow-bellied dog. You've made all of Wutai into the Continents' whore."

All of a sudden it struck Reno that this woman, head of this coup though she might be, was definitely a performer. Here she had the General/Demon and the Vice President of Shin-Ra in her grasp, taken in by one blitzkrieg move, and all she was doing (at the moment) was strutting. Holy shit. The only reason no one had been killed yet was because she wanted a goddamn audience.

Reno couldn't decide whether her idiotic need for attention was as funny as all get out or just plain stupid. Probably both. Glancing up at the spearwomen, he noticed that they were paying more attention to the unfolding drama than him.

_"Excellent..." _Stealthily, Reno began to work his slender hands out of his ropes. Standard Turk training involved at least a year figuring out how to get out of most restraints. "Most" was the operative word there. _"Goddamn, these are some tight knots..."_

"Better than a memory," Lord Godo said evenly. "Lady Suzu, isn't it? What do you hope to gain by this?"

"Power," she said, flicking out her fan. "Not for me, but for all of Wutai. By taking the Vice President of Shin-Ra hostage and by leeching out the...bad blood..." The look she gave Godo was extremely direct. "Wutai will become strong again."

"Do you really think it's that simple?" Godo asked, calm but arch. He sounded like reprimanding parent. "President Shin-Ra won't stand for you having his son here."

"Either his son stays here as a living hostage or goes back home in a box," Suzu said, her smile broadening. "Given those two choices..."

"So you're common kidnappers after all," Rufus said with a highbred sneer. "How disappointing."

The woman beside Suzu kicked out, trying to nail Rufus in the head, but the blue-white flare of a Barrier stopped her foot mere inches from his face and unbalanced, the ninja woman almost fell over. Reno noted this only absently; he continued to flex his hands, years of practice going into the minute movements that were slowly but surely freeing him.

"A Barrier spell?" Suzu said sharply. Looking at the ninja woman, she said, "I thought you checked them for materia, Tsuka."

"And they were clean," the ninja woman snapped back. Pointing at Rufus, Tsuka said, "He's either wearing an enchanted item or had it placed on him by an unknown element."

_"Dark Nation..."_ Reno supplied mentally. _"Good to know the Cat-Dog did _something _before it skipped out on us."_

The muscles between Reno's shoulders began to ache, having not been used for rope-escape in years, and sweat began to bead on his forehead, part exertion and part pain. The rough, scratchy hemp bit into his hands, rubbing even his callused skin raw the more he struggled. Bands of fire began to throb about his wrists and his fingers started to ache; in a short while, both would cramp. Reno took a deep breath and rested his hands for a moment.

A ninja trotted into the room and whispered something into Tsuka's ear; Reno managed to catch the words "escape" and "haven't found yet". Tsuka made a 'tch' noise and folded her arms, tapping her foot on the floor.

"Saya's still missing," Tsuka said when Suzu gave her an inquiring look. "Don't worry, I have people on it."

"Good," Suzu said, fanning herself more quickly. "We don't need her alerting the Royal Guard or the Garrison."

Everyone—nearly everyone—looked up as the archers on the roof suddenly shouted and began firing at something. Reno took the moment to yank his left hand out of his ropes, wincing as his scraped skin burst with the motion. Quickly he pulled the ropes off his right hand and, still with his hands behind his back, began to pick at the knots tying his feet. He had the feel of them now; they weren't particularly difficult knots, just very tight. For a moment Reno wished he was a woman so he'd have nice long nails to scratch at these ropes with.

"What's going on up there?" The yet-unnamed young man with Tsuka and Suzu called.

"Someone jumped over the wall, sir!" An archer shouted back.

"_Over _the wall?" Tsuka repeated, her voice incredulous.

"Yes, ma'am!"

"SOLDIERS?" Tsuka said, looking at the young man.

"It's not beyond them to clear a twenty-foot wall in one jump," the young man said, frowning. "But who could have called them?"

Tsuka turned sharply and Reno's stomach about pole-jumped out of his mouth as she strode toward him—it would have to be now, just when he was almost free, that she would discover him unbound. Reno tensed as she approached, but at the last second she turned, focusing her attention on Tseng. "You," she snapped. "Who did you call?"

"God," Tseng said defiantly. Tsuka grabbed a spear from one of the ninja women and jabbed at Tseng with it; he jerked aside just in time to avoid a second impalement through his injured shoulder.

"Don't fuck with me, halfblood!" She snarled. Whirling on Reno, she demanded, "How about you? Did _you_ call anyone?"

"Yo' mama," Reno said, yanking his thigh out of the way as she furiously tried to stab him. He suppressed a yelp of shock as she nearly speared him in the nuts and almost scrambled away, remembering at the last second that he was still supposed to be tied. He pitched himself backwards, just as he would have fallen if his hands had still been bound. Tsuka's eyes darkened with annoyance and she raised the spear again.

"It's a pair of little girls!" Someone shouted down from the roof. Reno's blood went cold and he exchanged a wide-eyed, almost panicked glance with Tseng. He was mildly gratified to see that his boss's face had gone almost ashen.

_"Fuck... It's probably exactly_ _who we think it is, too... God, how fucking stupid is she?_

"I kind of hope we die now... Or that the General carks it. He's gonna kill us, after all, if anything happens to her..."

"Little girls?" The young man seemed to perk right up in a very Hojo-like manner. "Really? Does one of them have—"

"Capture them at once!" Tsuka called up to the roof, lowering her polearm.

"Yes, ma'am!"

"There's another one! Get him!"

"Shit, missed!"

Suzu sighed irritably. "My, this night is just _full_ of surprises, isn't it?"

"Aww, poor baby," Rufus sneered. "It's more of a coup de blah, isn't it?"

Suzu glared at him and snapped her fan shut to strike him sharply across the face—the Barrier spell flashed in front of Rufus again, stopping her fan before it touched him. He chuckled maliciously and flipped her double birds.

"I think we need to move the prisoners," Tsuka said, handing the spear back to its owner. "Saya must have alerted someone. This place will be swarmed in minutes by both sides—"

"We're staying right here," the young man said, adjusting his glasses. "Don't worry. As long as we have the array up, we're well protected; plenty of meatshields between them and us. And the Lotus is surprisingly defensible."

"Not _so_ defensible if a pair of little girls could get in!" Tsuka snapped. "And what do you know about defenses, Fuhito?"

"More than you think," the young man said with a smile. "Don't forget who supplied the drug that took out the Demon. I've been fighting for a good long while now..."

"Oh?" Tsuka's voice was caustic. "Against what? Limp-wristedness?"

"Tsuka, that is enough!" Suzu said sharply, emphasizing her displeasure with an explosive snap of her fan. "Really, you _must_ control your temper. How are we to succeed if you're flaring left and right?"

"My apologies, Lady Suzu," Tsuka said, though she didn't sound apologetic at all. "As you said, this is a night of many surprises... I don't really like it."

So the three conspirators weren't really together; that was encouraging. Reno glanced at Tseng, who had noticed the same thing and was smiling faintly. Reno's hopes soared: did his boss have a plan?

Across the room, Sephiroth groaned and the noise made everyone go still.

"You said he wouldn't wake up for five hours!" Tsuka snapped at Fuhito, her voice colored with fear.

"Well, he shouldn't..." Interestingly, Fuhito sounded more curious than scared. "Then again... Hmm..."

"What? What is it?" Tsuka demanded, her voice rising. "What aren't you telling us?"

"My data might have been a little out of date," Fuhito said, shrugging. "But even if we didn't give him the correct dosage, he'll still be weak for a while yet. If you're going to finish him off, you should do it now."

"You'd kill a bound and unarmed man?" Tseng shouted, pitching his voice so everyone could hear. "How could you hold yourselves with honor?"

"Shut up, halfbreed!" Tsuka snarled, glaring at him. "What would you know of honor, you Continent-serving scum?"

"I know enough to know that a true warrior wouldn't be afraid to face her enemy in battle!"

Reno wanted to laugh; the dialogue sounded like something straight out of a cheesy martial arts movie, but the intense look in Tsuka's eyes showed that she was taking this very, very—maybe too—seriously.

"Tsuka, don't listen to him!" Suzu said sharply, glaring at the ninja woman. "The Demon's a creature straight from Hell; if you fight him when he's unbound, you'll lose. Slit his throat now!"

Tsuka growled softly and reached into the back of her belt, drawing a short, straight-bladed knife that was bright with purpose. Approaching the now weakly struggling Sephiroth, she said in a low voice, "This is not how I would have wanted it, but since we're short on time..."

There was a sudden shriek from above and the sound of tearing paper. Reno looked up automatically and wished he hadn't; a man, engulfed in flames, hit the floor with a terrible crunch and lay still, his terrible silence more eloquent than any death rattle. There was a ragged hole in the upper tier of the roof, ringed with vanishing flames. Reno thought he saw a flash of glowing green.

_"Fuck," _Reno thought in cold-shivered awe. _"If that's really Toriko up there, she's one cold little bitch..."_

"Move the prisoners!" Tsuka bellowed, making everyone jump. "Move them, now!" Whirling around, she said, "Suzu, Fuhito! Do you _still_ want to stay here?"

"Fuhito..." Suzu looked at the young man, who was looking up at the ceiling and frowning. "Fuhito!"

"I'm coming..." he said absently. Turning to Tsuka, he said, "What about the Demon? We can't really move him... Are you going to kill him or not?"

With an irritated snarl, Tsuka raised the knife and turned to face Sephiroth again. Reno could not help but wince as she touched the blade to his chest...

There was an explosion of breaking wood and tile, and Reno stared as a blur of black shot down from the ceiling, bounced off the floor—so hard that the wooden boards splintered—and flew like a true hellcat at Tsuka, a long dark tail trailing in its wake.

_"Is that Dark Nation?" _Reno wondered even as he realized the shape wasn't right.

Tsuka slashed at the dark blur almost too quick to see, and there was a flare of white light as steel rang on steel. The black-clad ninja woman and the smaller person leapt back, eyeing each other warily. Suzu went white.

"Toriko!" The geisha gasped, stumbling a pace back.

And holy fuck, it was Toriko, wearing a makeshift ninja outfit cribbed from her dark clothes—which meant just any old thing she wore, since nearly all her clothes were some variant of black or blue or purple. Reno couldn't decide what was the most shocking: that she had miraculously appeared without being called, that she was carrying Sephiroth's friggin' monster of a sword, or that she had just dropped forty feet from the ceiling, presumably set someone on fire, and then full-body tackled a woman who had to be at least twice her age. Shit!

_"She's Daddy's little girl, all right!"_

For no good reason, Fuhito suddenly laughed. All eyes flicked to him as he chuckled, straightening his glasses.

"You've grown," he said to Toriko, his voice warm and amused.

Toriko's expression was anything but, though her brows creased slightly in confusion. Tsuka frowned at Fuhito.

"You know her?" She asked, gesturing at Toriko with her dagger.

"Only by sight," Fuhito said, smiling. To Toriko, he said, "It's been about six months, hasn't it?"

_"Six months since what?" _Reno wondered, completely confused.

Toriko tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "...AVALANCHE?" She asked, almost muttering to herself. Her gray-green eyes flicked to her father. "This makes a lot more sense now..."

Reno's mind raced. Approximately six months ago, AVALANCHE had broken into the Shin-Ra Building and had destroyed a good part of Hojo's lab, freeing nearly every specimen in the place and making off with valuable SOLDIER data. A light suddenly seemed to switch on in Reno's head.

_"Where else would freakin' Wutaiese traditionalists get something strong enough to knock Sephiroth out with? Neither AVALANCHE nor these ninja psychos have any love for the Shin-Ra, so of course they'd join forces..."_

But how would Toriko know about the lab breakout? Due to the sensitive nature of the theft, Shin-Ra had kept the incident tightly under wraps, and Sephiroth wasn't the kind of guy who would talk about secret stuff to just anyone, even his daughter. Suddenly Reno sat up, remembering something almost insignificant.

_"The lab breakout was _one day before_ Sephiroth declared Toriko... And isn't there a missing specimen we're supposed to be looking for?"_

Reno stared at the little girl, who suddenly seemed alien and strange. Her bright eyes—her Mako eyes—were as hard as agates.

"Don't worry, he's not dead," Fuhito said, gesturing at Sephiroth and smiling. "You probably know what I used on him, don't you?" Toriko regarded him stonily and Fuhito went on, saying, "He does seem to be waking up, though. The data was misleading; I expected he would be out for at least five hours, and it's been less than thirty minutes..."

"Good," Toriko said, standing up straight. "An end to all this idiocy, then."

"Idiocy?" Tsuka's eyes flashed.

Toriko tilted her head. "Did any of you really think you would get out of this alive?"

A chill went over the room. Spoken in Toriko's frank little voice, the words held the weight of truth. It was so quiet that the sound of Reno unpicking the last of his knots was almost audible.

Toriko's eyes flicked around the room and Reno could almost see the gears turning in her head: she was planning something, no doubt something stupid. He was not proven wrong as Toriko immediately lunged at Tsuka, her sword above her head.

POW! Reno winced as Tsuka punched Toriko square in the face, knocking her end over end. Toriko clutched her nose, gasping, as Tsuka disdainfully cracked her knuckles.

"Fast, but stupid," Tsuka said, tilting her head. "And far too inexperienced to take on a kunoichi."

"I took care of five shinobi outside," Toriko growled, getting back to her feet.

"A woman knows better than to be taken off-guard by a little girl," Tsuka said, exposing her rather sharp teeth in a vicious smile.

Toriko tightened her hand around her sword and swiped the blood off her nose. "I'm stronger than you think."

"Try me," Tsuka said almost indulgently.

Toriko's eyes narrowed.

The near wall chose this moment to explode in a fiery storm of wood and stone. Reno threw himself on the floor, covering his head as a rain of burning shrapnel came flying at him, Tseng quickly doing the same. Hot stone and plaster raked across his hands, luckily nothing bigger. He heard shrieks of pain from others not so fortunate and he glanced up, looking at Tseng.

"You okay, boss?"

"Fine," Tseng said, slightly strained, and Reno saw him sit up, gingerly touching his injured shoulder though he was looking off to the side. Reno followed his gaze and winced as he saw one of their fellow prisoners, a bodyguard, lying dead on the floor with a burning two-by-four through his stomach.

_"Shit, that must've got right over our heads! Well, at least it looks like he went instantly... Something to be thankful for, I guess."_

Yanking his ropes off and looking around, Reno's jaw dropped as he saw a gigantic, flame-ringed hole in the wall, looking for all the world like the entrance gate to Hell. And through this burning portal stepped a very familiar figure, calmly adjusting his gloves and sunglasses.

"Yeah, Rude!" Reno whooped, punching the air with both fists. "You sure know how to make an entrance!"

"I try," Rude said modestly.

The staccato ringing of steel on steel made Reno whip around and he stared in wide-eyed wonder as he saw Tsuka and Toriko whacking at each other like a pair of metal whirlwinds. Through the blinding maelstrom, he could see Toriko turning pale, Tsuka looking grim, as their fight became faster and faster.

"Reno, watch out!" Tseng shouted, and Reno threw himself out of harm's way as the spearwoman in front of him took a swing at his head. Out of the corner of his eye Reno saw Tseng roundhouse-kick the woman in the head, knocking her out cold on the floor. The other spearwoman was lying on the ground, her head at an impossible angle. Reno was impressed: he hadn't even heard Tseng crack her neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rude sweep a wall of fire in front of him as a temporary barrier.

Bolts of lightning—pure lightning, not the imitation Turk Light stuff—dropped from the ceiling, making several lady ninjas collapse to the floor in a mass of convulsing limbs. Reno saw something dark flow like mercury around the edge of the Blue Lotus, trailing lightning magic in its wake. The Cat-Dog was back, and it came bearing presents.

"Good boy, Dark Nation!" Rufus whooped as the pantheround slipped to his side and uncoiled its tentacle from around a circular case; Rufus eagerly popped the top off it and whipped out his M37, almost cackling with delight. The pantheround spun on its paws and clung to Rufus's side, shark-white teeth gleaming starkly against its muzzle. The air around it crackled with electricity, yellow sparks that grew and shrank with the undulating growls coming from Dark Nation's throat.

But the odds were still not good. There were thirty-odd lady ninjas, armed and dangerous, and while the Turks, Dark Nation, and Rufus with a shotgun were formidable, they were not God. Reno prayed fervently that Sephiroth would wake up and rain fiery balls of _whoop-ass_ on everything in sight.

_"Any time, sir..." _Reno prayed fervently, shooting glances at the now struggling Sephiroth. _"Any time now..."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Sorry for the long delay. I haven't forgotten about the story, I swear. It's just that this arc has needed a lot of redoing. Grr.

/\

So there you are, Suzu wants to gloat. This is why people are alive. She's not a very smart woman, is she? Well, she gets her comeuppance.

/\/\/\/\/\


	95. Chapter 87

Put Your Lights On

5.9.06

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

Chapter Eighty-Seven

When the fighting had started, Dark Nation knew exactly what was expected of him. Melting away in the confusion, he had sprinted through the halls of the strange-smelling hume cave and darted outside, slipping through the cave doors before a pair of black-clad humes shut it. Running swift and silent through the streets, he galloped back to the big hume dwelling on the hill, where Master slept and always returned to. Master's gun was there, and he would need it in times of trouble. Nation was smart enough to know that as strong as he was, he defended Master best in wide-open areas with few people. The hume cave he just left was too small and too packed for him to be really effective. Plus, the humes had been more interested in subduing Master than hurting him, so he would be all right for a little while, especially with that Barrier spell that Nation had slapped on him just before going. Still, Barriers weren't perfect, so he ran to the hume dwelling on the hill at top speed.

He encountered no trouble on the way back to Master's sleeping place, which was good; the shorter this trip was, the sooner he could be back with Master. Oh, poor Master—Nation knew other humes were afraid of him, but Nation had been with him in those moments when Master had cried, burying his face in Nation's neck and his fingers in Nation's fur. Nation knew enough about humes to know that crying was a sign of sadness, of weakness. Master might frighten other humes, but Nation knew he was nothing special. That was the biggest reason he had to be protected. Nation knew how Master was weak.

The walls of the hume dwelling were high, but that was no problem. Crouching at the foot of the wall, he leapt up as high as he could and sank his claws into the gray stone, flicking his ears against the dissonant screech of his reinforced nails. Clawing and scrabbling up the stone wall, Nation pulled himself onto and then over it, landing on the other side with a soft thump. The pantheround inspected his claws and lifted a lip in irritation as he noticed they were slightly blunted. Master would have to replace the iron sheaths on them, which Nation didn't particularly care for; it meant having little steel pegs drilled through his natural claws, a highly uncomfortable process.

But that wasn't important now. Nation ran to where Master slept, memory guiding him more than smell now that he was on the outside. Master's window was closed, but that wasn't a problem; the windows of this hume dwelling swung out, and it took only a second for Nation to pry it open with the long tentacle on his head, the tip of it more flexible and facile than a hume finger could ever be. Leaping through the window, Nation found himself in Master's room and took a moment to inhale deeply, soaking in the faint scent of his adopted ginger-haired cub. Then getting back to business, Nation stuck his head under the bed and wrapped his tentacle around the handle of the gun case that Master never went anywhere without. For a moment, Nation wondered if he should bring the whole case or just the gun before remembering that the case had extra ammunition in it. Master might need that.

Wrapping his tentacle as securely as he could around the large, circular case, Nation laid the gun flat on his back and trotted back to the window. He jumped out as smoothly as a stream of oil and ran back to the wall, the gun thumping softly on his back. Scrabbling over the wall a second time, Nation ran down the high hill and back into town, beelining for the hume cave.

He saw dark-clad humes walking around, weapons in their hands, and had to suppress the urge to kill them. He couldn't waste any time getting Master's gun to him, and if the humes weren't directly threatening him or Master, he was not supposed to do anything to them. Still, Nation considered shooting off a Bolt spell or two, just to incapacitate a few, as he jumped onto a nearby roof and saw that there were a lot more armed humes in the street than he had expected. Had something gone wrong in the cave if its dark-clad inhabitants had fled?

Master first. Nation leapt from rooftop to rooftop, the rough pads of his paws saving him from slipping on the ceramic tiles. The hume cave was surrounded by a high wall, but that was no problem for Nation's powerful legs; springing from the last rooftop, he sailed over the wall and landed heavily on the other side, the gun case banging painfully against his spine as the shock of landing made him wince. Shaking off the brief stabs, Nation looked around and blinked when he saw a huge burning hole in the wall of the cave. Inside he could see Master, who turned and noticed him at once. Master's face lit up with the hume expression of relief and happiness, and Nation jumped through the burning hole of fire.

"Good boy!" Master enthused as Nation ran to him, dashing around the edge of the cave. Nation's heart swelled with happiness, and he forgot to control his lightning; it exploded out of him, shocking any humes unfortunate enough to be nearby. Master apparently approved of this. "Good boy, Nation!"

Nation flicked his tentacle, flinging the gun case at Master, and Master jumped up to snatch it out of the air, opening it and yanking out his shotgun in one smooth motion. Nation skidded to a stop at his feet and Master spared a moment to ruffle his fur roughly, warmly.

"Good boy," he repeated before taking aim and firing.

_"Thank you, Master,"_ Nation thought, or would have thought if his mind were not on more important matters. Concentrating, Nation summoned the lightning magic that lay dissolved in his blood and began firing off Bolt spells, aiming for the pack of female humes that Master was swiftly, grimly firing at. They scattered under the rain of flaming buckshot he was shooting at them, spreading themselves over the entire room. There were a lot fewer of them than there had been before, now that Master and his shotgun had joined the fray...

Nation chuckled and bared his teeth before bolting forward with a bloodthirsty roar.

(...)(There's supposed to be a pagebreak here. Silly formatting makes me go arrrr...)(...)

Author's note:

Here's where Dark Nation went:P I've always been under the impression that animals understand more than we think they do, and while I may be stretching the limits of Dark Nation's intelligence here, remember that Rufus is the second/third most powerful man in the world, and he has Turks watching him; Nation has to be worthy. Plus, Nation doesn't talk; how do we know how smart it really is?

I'm not quite sure what inspired me to write this from Dark Nation's perspective. I just like him, I think. I want a Dark Nation. I like kitties.

There is an abominable lack of dialogue in this chapter, but that's intentional: Nation, after all, is not human, so he doesn't internalize his thoughts. And who else is there for him to talk to, anyway? Hmm, what else...?

(...)(And another pagebreak here. Arrrr...)(...)

The drug came in waves, first freezing his muscles seeming by shooting millions of steel needles through them; when he tried to move, the metal splintered to scratch raw and savage against his muscles. Next, naturally, came the pain, so hot and intense that it set the iron needles red-hot and made him feel like he was cooking from the inside. Sephiroth opened his mouth to gasp for air, cooling air, but that only fed the flames and faintly he was surprised he was not breathing fire.

Then the rest of the drug was stabbed into his system and mercifully Sephiroth blacked out, falling bonelessly into the formless black that always took him when he was drugged unconscious. Something cool and soft caught him, like always, and stroked his hair.

_"Rest," _someone seemed to whisper. _"Rest."_

_"I can't rest. They'll kill me."_

_"I won't let you die,"_ the secret voice whispered, enveloping him in folds of cooling black. The voice felt like silk and skin and air, and it flowed over Sephiroth like water, gently washing away his anxiety. But he had never been passive, and he struggled against the coolness, which masked the true unconsciousness that sought insidiously to take him.

_"I've got to get back."_

_"No, rest..."_

_"Some other time."_

It was like pushing rusty windlasses, yanking grime-encrusted levers, to make his eyes come into focus. The formless black torturously gave way to the multi-silvered gray of light shining through his hair, and the fuzzy black blobs Sephiroth saw below gradually turned into his feet. Considerably quicker than his vision, his hearing came back, although it took him a moment to translate the sounds he was hearing into things that actually made sense.

"If you're going to finish him off, you should do it now."

Sephiroth froze. His first reaction was to charge at the speaker and rip his head off to use as a projectile (something he had done more than once in the past), but things tightened against him when he tried to move—chains, he realized with a glance. He was bound to one of the blue-lacquered columns with what felt and looked like a hundred yards of iron links, and his lip curled in disgust. Normally these would be nothing for him to break out of, but his body was abominably weak from the drug and still throbbing with pain. Sephiroth settled for raising his head, or trying to. Damn, he hadn't known how hard it was to do just that until now.

"You'd kill a bound and unarmed man?" Tseng shouted from across the room. "How could you hold yourselves with honor?"

"Shut up, halfbreed!" Some kuniochi snarled angrily. "What would you know of honor, you Continent-serving scum?"

"I know enough to know that a true warrior wouldn't be afraid to face her enemy in battle!"

Sephiroth took a deep breath and concentrated, tightening his lower back muscles and working his way up the spine. It was roundabout and slow, the effort making him perspire, but with each tension he could feel himself straightening. Laboriously he managed to raise his head, only peripherally aware of people shouting around him.

"Toriko!" Someone gasped, and he nearly lost his focus.

_"Toriko!"_

Sephiroth shook his hair out of his eyes and stared as he saw his daughter, his timid little daughter, standing not five feet from him. He couldn't see what her face looked like, but she was radiating anger.

_"Tori?" _Sephiroth thought at her, his thought as strong as his body was weak.

He saw her flinch, imperceptible to all but him. _"...Father?"_

_"What are you doing here?" _

_"I thought something was wrong,"_ she thought back, her words trembling. _"So I thought you might need your weapon."_

_"You brought the Masamune?"_ He thought at her incredulously.

_"And materia."_ She added with a mental nod. _"I was really worried..."_

Underneath, Sephiroth could see flashes of all that had conspired: knocking assassins and archers off rooftops, carrying a bratty princess through the night, fighting with her mother about him... Toriko _hated_ fighting.

_"Tori..."_

"You've grown," a young man said familiarly to Toriko.

"You know her?" A kunoichi asked; Sephiroth stiffened when he saw she had live steel in her hands.

"Only by sight," the young man said, smiling. To Toriko he said, "It's been about six months, hasn't it?"

"_What happened six months ago?" _Sephiroth wondered, then shook his head; he had more immediate problems. Testing his chains again, he realized that his strength was returning quickly; in a few minutes, he could easily break out of his bonds. Motor control, on the other hand, would still be a while in coming.

"Don't worry, he's not dead," the young man went on in his pleasant voice. "You probably know what I used on him, don't you? He does seem to be waking up, though. The data was misleading; I expected he would be out for at least five hours, and it's been less than thirty minutes..."

_"They gave me a SOLDIER trank," _Sephiroth thought at Toriko. _"It knocked me out for a while, but it's kid's stuff compared to what Hojo uses for me."_

_"So you're alright, then?" _Toriko thought hopefully.

_"I will be... What I want to know is how they got hold of this shit. It must have been during your breakout, when AVALANCHE invaded the lab... Damn it, I need to know what else they took. If they got into my data, or yours..."_

_"Hojo would hide our data better than that," _Toriko disagreed.

"_But still, if they've knocked me out, AVALANCHE is more dangerous than I thought... Tori, give me my sword."_

"_There's a kunoichi in the way."_

"_Take care of her."_

He felt a tremble of nervousness from her, but she complied. Shockingly fast, the kunoichi slammed her fist into Toriko's face, knocking her over and a good ten feet away.

"Fast, but stupid," the kunoichi said, tilting her head. "And far too inexperienced to take on a kunoichi."

"I took care of seven shinobi already," Toriko growled, clutching her nose as she stood up again. The woman had not held back in the least; even with Toriko's abnormal strength and toughness, her nose was bleeding and looked like it was broken.

"A woman knows better than to be taken off-guard by a little girl," the older woman said with a chuckle.

Toriko tightened her hand around her sword and swiped the blood off her nose. "I'm stronger than you think."

"Try me," the woman said condescendingly.

The far wall suddenly exploded in a molten blaze of stone and wood, but the pieces fell short of injuring either of them. Sephiroth glanced over and saw Rude stepping into the room, cracking his knuckles.

_"Did he come alone?" _Sephiroth thought suspiciously.

_"The Garrison wouldn't give him backup," _Toriko thought at him.

_"Those fuckers." _Sephiroth tested his bonds: still too strong for him at the moment. _"Damn it! Toriko, get me out of these!" _

_"Yes, Father." _ Toriko set the Masamune on the floor and drew her second sword, setting her jaw as she squared off against the woman.

The woman attacked first, feinting with a strike at Toriko's head: despite her training with Nanashi, Toriko still flinched, shutting her eyes for a split second. Sephiroth could understand why; unlike Nanashi, this woman was filled with killing intent, and even if she attacked exactly the same as Toriko's _sensei_, the difference in energy made Toriko afraid.

Sephiroth gritted his teeth, straining against his chains. The idea that anyone would willingly attack and kill a child—something even he had never done in the madness of war—made him inexplicably and violently angry. He wondered how much of that had to do with the fact that it was _his_ child about to get killed. Would he be angry if it were any other?

Strike, flinch, strike, flinch. Toriko was well-trained, but she was afraid—scratch that, terrified—and it was affecting her in a bad way. Her fear fed the woman's movements, which became faster and more vicious, and in turn Toriko became even more scared. Sephiroth bit back the urge to shout at Toriko in battle, knowing even a split-moment's distraction could spell a dagger in the chest, or a slash across the eyes. He could feel the flow of battle, the energy swinging like a mad pendulum from Toriko to her opponent. Though he was not fighting, he was still sick with worry.

It happened in a split second, Toriko's swift and unexpected attack. Toriko parried one of the woman's daggers with the flat of her sword and tilted her blade, making the woman's slide harmlessly off to the side. At the last second she flicked her sword, throwing the woman off-balance, and took advantage of the opening to lunge forward. The woman gasped as Toriko stabbed her in the side, the sword sliding smoothly into her, and reflexively clutched at the blade.

Toriko recoiled. _"Oh god! I... Oh, no!"_

Sephiroth couldn't believe it. She was actually _worried_ about her opponent? Despite the fact that the woman wanted to kill her, she was still hesitant about striking? Sephiroth almost asked why, but he caught a bunching ripple, the snakelike coiling of muscle that signaled a strike.

_"TORIKO! MOVE!"_

Toriko moved instinctively, but a split second too late. Sephiroth stared, roiling with shock and horror as the woman stabbed Toriko in the shoulder, expertly plunging between the collarbone and scapula to reach deep, fatal, into the heart and lungs. Toriko gasped as the air whooshed out of her lungs.

_"Ow."_ She thought weakly. Then her body convulsed, and she coughed deep and ragged from inside her chest, blood bubbling past her lips. She was already bleeding into her lungs.

No flooding, no roaring rush—it was like flipping a switch, or pushing him over the edge. Sephiroth's body prickled with electricity and his back—his right shoulderblade—began to feel hot. His eyes were feeling hot too, and he could actually feel the heat from them radiating out to warm his cheeks and brows. Heat fed into his scapula, making the small of his back slick with sweat: the iron chains binding him began to grow hot. Sephiroth braced himself against the column with his feet and pushed forward, straining against the iron links. It had been six years since this had last happened, but he still knew what was next.

It happened suddenly and slowly, creeping up and releasing like a climax, though with pain instead of pleasure: Sephiroth gasped as the inexplicable wing—it had only ever been one wing—shoved itself violently out of his back, dragging skin and muscle and bone along with it to build a massive appendage in mere seconds. Peripherally he was aware of the wing's violent eruption having one beneficial effect; it stretched and then shattered the chains binding him. The pain was... Well, even the worst of Hojo's experiments couldn't compare, at least not in the moment of the wing's birth. For a moment, Sephiroth's vision went white with unspeakable, nearly unbearable agony.

But the smell of Toriko's blood was still thick in the air, and the only the wing's root hurt. Sephiroth staggered, unbalanced by the sudden weight on his right, and nearly went to his knees. His left hand brushed the ground, touching the hilt of the Masamune; reflexively he grabbed it and the weight, the balance of his overlong sword righted him, making him even as he stood up straight. Raising the sword, as long as he held it only in his left, was no problem. Bringing it down, too, was not an issue.

The kunoichi split apart in coronal halves as she began the act of pulling her dagger from Toriko's shoulder. Supported by the grip the kunoichi had on her _tanto_, the front half of her body did not fall, at least not at first. The back half of her fell onto the floor with a meaty thud, and then the intestines, the viscera, slid to the floor like a basket of upturned eels, splattering the floor with blood's red and bile's yellow. The severed heart was still spurting blood.

Toriko dropped to her knees and Sephiroth looked at her, alarm making his chest go tight. Taking a step forward, he pried the dead woman's hand from her dagger and kicked her corpse away from his daughter: Toriko flinched when a streak of the woman's blood went across her face, or maybe she was just shivering. Sephiroth kneeled in front of her, his hand hovering over the dagger buried in her shoulder.

_"I'm going to die, aren't I?" _Toriko thought tearfully.

The utter conviction in her mind made Sephiroth's chest hurt. Touching the dagger, he wondered how quickly she healed from injury. If her rate was anything like his had been at her age...

Awareness made his scalp prickle and Sephiroth looked up. While he had been occupied with Toriko, the thirtysome kunoichi had been edging closer, no doubt hoping to pick him off while he was distracted. Sephiroth's eyes narrowed as he weighed the merits of dealing with the women personally or attending to Toriko.

Interestingly, it was Rufus who made that decision for him. Sephiroth saw the young man's jaw tighten as he pumped his shotgun and brought it up to his shoulder: hence he was prepared for the roar of the young Shin-Ra's powerful firearm and didn't let it distract him from his daughter. He turned his attention back to Toriko as the kunoichi scattered, running from Rufus's gun and now Dark Nation, who appeared to be going berserk as only a protective pantheround could, with tooth and claw and lightning spell. The Turks joined the fight, and general sounds of slaughter and mayhem ensued. Sephiroth swept his black wing forward, partly to shield Toriko from the sights and to draw her closer to him, where it would be easier for him to inspect her wound.

_"You're not going to die," _he thought as reassuringly as he could, setting down the Masamune. Wrapping his fingers around the protruding hilt of the dagger, Sephiroth put his other hand on her shoulder and looked at Toriko: her eyes grew huge with sudden understanding and dread. _"You may," _he added, _"wish that you could, however. This is going to hurt a lot."_

Toriko clutched his shirt, her eyes mixed with fear, hope, and pleading toward both emotions. Don't do this, please do this quickly. Don't hurt me, heal me as fast as you can. Sephiroth bent over her and she touched her forehead to his chest. Their pulses matched out of shared fear and the unvoiced dread of what would happen if this rude first-aid, this dependence on the strength of her freak body, did not work. Sephiroth inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of his daughter's fear and drawing courage—the kind that was born of necessity, from there being no other voice—from it.

Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, Sephiroth began to draw the knife from Toriko's shoulder. A high-pitched whine, a scream stuffed in the throat, squeezed past Toriko's clamped jaws and he could feel the pain he was causing her, reflected in his own chest like a red-hot iron spear. But he could also feel her recovery, infinitesimal though it was; with the dagger being drawn out so slowly, her tissues could repair without a sudden rush of blood to impede them. Toriko knew this, or at least had gleaned it from his mind, so she bore this treatment with only tears and some small screaming. Blood seeped under Sephiroth's hand, soaking his glove and her shirt.

Then some cunt slammed into him from behind, making him jerk the knife. Grabbing a fistful of his long silver hair, she jerked his head back to bare his throat. He caught a glimpse of a pale, pretty face and pink robes—well, well, it was one of the two bitches that had snookered him before. Rage, rather than fear, shot through his veins. Not only had she drugged him, but she was interrupting a delicate operation as well...!

_"You're really asking for it, you bitch."_

As the serving-girl-cum-assassin pressed her blade against his nceck, Sephiroth released the last of his limit break; his wing poofed into black feathers, as if it had been a battery for the sudden wave of energy that rolled across the room, latching onto every armed Wutaiese woman and wrapping her in a lattice of heat. There was the customary moment of dread as each victim realized something terrible was about to happen...

The serving girl let go of Sephiroth's hair with a shriek as she exploded into flames—not her clothes, but her skin itself, and her hair vanished in a burst of fire. Flames erupted from her mouth and she fell to the floor convulsing, dying even before she touched the ground. Around the room, kunoichi were falling like volcanic scree, flaming lumps that hit the ground and stayed there, making the air thick with greasy black smoke and a smell that only Pandemonium could appreciate. Sephiroth turned around and resumed pulling the knife from Toriko's shoulder. He felt her shaking violently against him and tilted his head, rubbing his cheek against her hair.

"I know," he whispered, his voice a calm undercurrent to the screams and the crackling of fire suddenly filling the air. "I know, it hurts. It'll be over soon."

Toriko's shuddering only became stronger. She made no noises of pain as he finished pulling the dagger excruciatingly from her shoulder. Under his watchful eyes, the now small wound closed up and left only a small pink line to its name.

Sephiroth exhaled deeply, relief making him weak. He hadn't been entirely sure a slow extraction would work. On the other hand, leaving the dagger in Toriko's shoulder would have spelled certain disaster, because even if she hadn't died immediately, the unavoidable process of breathing would have caused the dagger to slice even deeper into her lungs, and eventually allow them to be filled with blood—and there wasn't really much anyone could do about that, at least not with Wutai's limited surgical resources.

"Sephiroth!"

Sephiroth turned; Rufus was shouting at him. He was standing outside of the performance room, beyond the flaming hole in the wall that Rude had blasted earlier. The fire ringing it had spread, and Sephiroth saw with no small chagrin that the entire wall was on fire, as well as a section of the roof. His limit break hadn't helped matters either. As sweat dripped into his eyes, Sephiroth realized for the first time that it was very, very hot.

"The place is on fire!" Rufus shouted unnecessarily. "Get out of there!"

Sephiroth picked up Toriko with the utmost of care. As his arms went around her shoulders and under her knees, Toriko protested. "Father, I can walk."

"And risk getting pneumothorax? I don't think so."

Conflicting emotions went over her face as she looked up to him, wary and confused even as she snuggled into the curve of his arm, rested her head on the depression between his chest and deltoid. One pale, delicate hand spidered up to cover her wound, as if to reassure herself that it was already gone. The pain in her injured chest was still fierce—it would stay there for at least a couple days, while her body reinforced the tentative bonds her cells had made in exigency. Any kind of strain could tear the wound wide open, and the last thing Toriko needed was internal bleeding or gas outside her lungs. Or smoke in her lungs, for that matter.

_"You seem to be alright," _Toriko thought hesitantly. _"Only a few moments ago..."_

"_I recover quickly." _Sephiroth quickened his pace and hopped out of the burning performance space just as the subtle groaning of wood reached his ears. _"When you're my age, you will too."_

Rufus, the Turks, and the Wutaiese dignitaries were standing a fair distance away, at the edge of a pond in the Blue Lotus's decorative yard. Sephiroth noticed that Lord Godo was clutching the hand of a little girl that registered a moment later as his daughter, Yuffie. The princess's dark gray eyes went wide as she saw Toriko.

"Onee-chan!" She exclaimed, trying to run forward. Sephiroth's surprise at the honorific was shadowed by him noticing the way Godo's hand tightened on Yuffie's and how he discreetly but firmly pulled her back. Toriko noticed these things at well, but chose to focus on the former.

"I'm alright," she said to Yuffie, offering a wan smile. Sephiroth set her gently on the ground and looked at Rufus.

"Any injuries?" He asked the younger man.

"Not a one," Rufus said, but his eyes were on Toriko, whose shoulder gleamed blackly in the moonlight. Yuffie twisted her hand out of her father's and ran up to Toriko.

"You're bleeding," she said in an almost accusatory tone.

"It's not mine," Toriko lied.

Before anyone could stop her, Yuffie poked Toriko sharply in the shoulder, no doubt to see, in a typical childish way, if Toriko was lying. Toriko did not flinch, even as Sephiroth felt her mind yelp with a sudden flare of pain.

"Melonhead," Toriko said, smacking Yuffie upside the head in an amusingly casual manner. The princess yelped and stepped back, rubbing her head and glaring.

"Excuse me for being worried," she grumbled.

"An 'are you alright' would do next time," Toriko said, putting her right hand on her hip; her left arm she left lying at her side, presumably to keep from irritating her healing flesh. "Speaking of which, how's your head?"

"Hurts," Yuffie said nonchalantly. "But it's no biggie."

Godo stepped forward then and his eyes were stormy. Sephiroth's narrowed and he put his hand on Toriko's uninjured shoulder, watching the shorter man as he approached.

"Am I to understand that you came here alone?" Godo asked Toriko in a deceptively quiet voice.

"Not alone, though that had been my intention," Toriko said, meeting his gaze evenly. It was a brazen move for a child, but Sephiroth had long noticed that the only one she did not directly look at—respected, as it were—was him. "Princess Yuffie's arrival and subsequent assistance was not part of my original plan."

At the word 'assistance', everyone looked at Yuffie, who grinned like she'd just won first place in some peculiar competition.

"I set people on fire," she said proudly.

For no good reason, Sephiroth found himself smiling. Everyone saw this and looked varying degrees of uneasy. Toriko just looked at the ground.

It was then that Sephiroth heard a growl and at first he looked at Dark Nation, who was sitting like a pool of midnight at Rufus's feet. The pantheround looked at him quizzically and without animus, which meant that the growl was coming from somewhere else... From behind him. More than that, the growl had words.

"You sisterfucking shiftless white BASTARD!"

Sephiroth turned around, already knowing whom he was going to see. In the calmest voice he could muster, he put on a polite, noncommittal smile and said, "Hello, Seishi."

Author's note:

Sorry again about the hiatus. Hopefully these long chapters make up for it.

:evil chuckle: So we finally come to the main kernel of the Wutai arc... Sephiroth and Seishi meet again! What can we expect? Lots of screaming, that's for sure. And maybe a reappearance of the Demon? He was flickering around the edges in this chapter...

On dA, a picture of Sephiroth and Seishi. Dark, but children-safe. They see naked shoulderblades, right:P

For those not familiar with Japanese honorifics, "onee-chan" means 'older sister'—a way of showing respect and familiarity to a non-family member. That Yuffie is using this term with Toriko shows how she is now in awe of her.

A number of people have expressed interest at seeing a 'nice' picture of Sephiroth and Seishi. Such a picture would poke me the wrong way, but if enough people want to see it, I'll draw it. If I get no replies on the subject, then it stays in the far recesses of the idea-sea.


	96. Chapter 88

Put Your Lights On

5.9.06

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Eighty-Eight

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A long time ago, when Seishi's soul and body had been raped raw by war, she had made certain resolutions for her life. First off, she would acknowledge her experiences from day one: she would not pretend they had never happened, because suppressing something so traumatizing would no doubt have unpleasant consequences later—inconvenient flashbacks, health problems, that sort of thing. Secondly, she would not give Sephiroth any more power over her than he'd already had, and in fact would take away from his power by refusing to fear him. Yes, he was stronger than she was and had hurt her quite terribly, but he'd only done it because he was quite weak inside and had probably been hurt terribly as well. Not that Seishi forgave him or hated him any less for it, but it was always good to know where you enemy was coming from. The knowledge that Sephiroth was human—barely—helped Seishi look at him not as a demon, as an unbeatable creature of darkness, but rather as a cracked-up, confused, and pitiful man. Thus, Seishi would treat him accordingly if the two of them ever met again.

At least, that had been the plan. However, when Seishi had heard much screaming and deathcrying coming from the Blue Lotus , and when she had looked outside and seen the place in flames with a certain white-haired foreigner standing by, something in Seishi had just snapped. She wasn't sure if it was the sight of her business on fire or just the presence of Sephiroth, but her iron self-control had evaporated. Sublimated, even. Before she knew what she was doing, Seishi was practically running across the yard and screeching like a gutter tramp.

"You sisterfucking shiftless white BASTARD!"

Was it her imagination or did the man actually freeze for a moment? His face was composed when he turned to look at her, and Seishi wondered if that was panic she saw fleeting across his eyes. To her shock, there was still a flutter of fear in her chest when she saw his brilliant green eyes.

"Stop it," she told herself severely. "He would not hurt me with so many people watching, especially not with Toriko watching." 

It occurred to Seishi then that the people were watching her too. Even as her mind raked through her not inconsiderable repertoire of expletives, Seishi firmly set rules on what she would be able to say: she would speak only as an enraged businesswoman, and no one was to know what her relationship to Toriko—and the bastard too, for that matter—actually was.

"Hello, Seishi," Sephiroth said, looking at her as she stumped around the edge of the fishpond, striking her stick so deeply into the earth that she had to jerk two inches of it out of the ground with each step.

"Hello, my ass!" She shot back. Swinging her stick up, she pointed at the burning performance center of the Blue Lotus. "You donkey-rimming cockbite, that's _your_ doing, isn't it?"

"Entirely incidental, I assure you," Sephiroth said with incredible composure. Everyone else was gaping, probably a combination of Sephiroth and Seishi conversing in different languages and the ones fluent in Wutaiese being absolutely flabbergasted by Seishi's choice of words. Lord Godo clapped his hands over his scarlet-faced daughter's ears and was looking more than a little red himself. Toriko just looked up at the sky, her face carefully blank.

"I expect to be fully compensated for the loss of my business, you lily-assed shit!" Seishi raged.

"Undoubtedly." Sephiroth smiled politely. It was clear from the look on his face that he had no intention of paying.

Seishi resisted the urge to throw her stick at his head. He'd probably grab it out of the air and then have a good laugh at her expense as she'd hobble over to get it. Instead, Seishi took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down.

Interestingly, Toriko interceded. Still looking up at the sky, she said, "Father's always very prompt about financial matters, Lady Kurama." Kurama was Seishi's maiden name, the one she conducted business under. "Monthly payments of a hundred thousand gil over a year's period will undoubtedly be forthcoming."

A lesser man in Sephiroth's shoes would have turned pale or choked. The white-haired man, however, shot Toriko a well-disguised look of annoyance.

"1.2 million gil for repairs seems excessive," the Vice President said mildly, looking at Toriko.

"When one considers all the factors—the physical damage, the loss of reputation, and what could very well become a fatal drop in business—1.2 million gil is just barely sufficient." Toriko stopped looking at the sky then and looked sidelong at her father. "Considering the hardships Lady Kurama has been through, one might even consider additional funds for the treatment of emotional distress."

Seishi felt such a swell of pride within her that she almost felt she could die from joy. The happiness was compounded by the definite look of impotent anger on Sephiroth's face—it wasn't every day a man was outmaneuvered by his own daughter.

"Your father shouldn't have to pay for everything," Vice President Shin-Ra said, folding his arms. "If Lady Kurama's security had been better, we wouldn't have had this problem in the first place."

Ouch. Unfortunately that was true enough. Nevertheless, Toriko sailed unerringly to her defense.

"An attempted assassination-cum-coup-d'état of this scale could not have been accomplished without considerable deception," Toriko pointed out. "While Lady Kurama is an accomplished businesswoman, surely her skills are not honed to recognize such deadly threats. Her security can hardly be faulted if she had no idea what to prepare for, and seeing as this is a house of entertainment, her security cannot be expected to be as flexible or as experienced as that of your own self or Lord Godo."

Wordy little thing, wasn't she? But the Vice President was neither put off by her verbosity or her reasoning. "Security not only refers to the armed guards in the employ of the Blue Lotus, it also means the loyalty of the people within. Lady Kurama's establishment was a pit of vipers. In fact, how do we know that she didn't collude with the assailants?"

"A valid point," Lord Godo said, frowning and looking at her. "Lady Kurama, what were you doing during the attack, what were you doing?"

"Hiding," Seishi said, looking at him. "I'm hardly in a condition to fight."

"Were you, as Vice President Shin-Ra suggests, cooperating with the attackers?"

"Certainly not. I'll admit a fair number of them were probably Lotus staff, but I was not the one commanding them."

"Tarama no Suzu," Toriko put in, nodding. "She wrested control away from you earlier this evening."

"Indeed," Seishi said, inclining her head toward her daughter. "She was quite the duplicitous little bitch. I had no idea how radical she was until she locked me in my own house and told me of her plans."

"A moment," Sephiroth said suddenly, his eyes narrowing. All attention went to him as he said, "You said that a fair number of the attackers tonight were probably Lotus staff... You employ kunoichi, then?"

"Yes," Seishi said, glaring at him. Did he have a problem with that? Tough jerky. "They're skilled, valuable workers."

"Why were they disguised as geisha?"

"They were not disguised," Seishi said in annoyance. "Ask any one of them what they are, and they'll tell you that they're kunoichi first, geisha second. At the moment, however, being a geisha is helping them pay the bills."

"Because they lost everything in the war."

"Yes."

"To Shin-Ra."

Seishi narrowed her eyes, knowing exactly where the white-haired shit was going. "And by dint of that, you're going to imply that they had motivation to attack you and the current regime. Alright, so they did. However, that was their choice. I am not responsible for what my employees think or do."

"In their off-time, perhaps," Sephiroth said, folding his arms. "However, they were on Lotus premises and on your payroll. It's not that far a leap."

Seishi's hand tightened on the head of her walking stick. In a voice of forced calm, she said, "Listen up, you cracker ass, I had nothing to do with the attacks. If you Continentals had been hurt or killed—" Seishi eyed Sephiroth's torn shirt. "Too late, I see—then the Company could likely take steps to burn Wutai to the ground, something no child of Da-Chao ever wants to happen! Hell, it might even happen now unless you give them someone's head on a plate." Something occurred to Seishi and her combative blood boiled, making her snap one last time. "So fling every question you want at me, you cocksucking catamite, because I'll never change my story and I'll never be tripped up by your testosterone-fueled drive to find someone to blame!"

Sephiroth's eyes flared: apparently she'd said something that had rubbed him the wrong way. He took a step forward and instantly Seishi went cold, her entire body automatically freezing in fear and in preparation for a blow—but again, Toriko interceded.

"Father," she said, at once putting herself between Sephiroth and Seishi—he looked down at her, angry but surprised, as she squarely blocked his path. "Lady Kurama is no doubt distressed by the destruction of her livelihood. Please do not let her overwrought words disturb you."

"I'm not letting this bitch walk all over me," he said in a low hiss, audible only to Toriko and Seishi. "And don't think I don't see what you're doing either. Get out of my way."

"Father, you're very angry and not thinking clearly," Toriko said implacably. "And besides, what would you do to her? You know she's trying to bother you."

Sephiroth opened his mouth to say something, but Toriko chose this moment to turn around and direct her attention at Seishi. Just like old times, she used her amazingly expressive face to get her message across.

_"Mother, please don't make things any more difficult for me."_

Seishi mentally sighed. Taking another deep breath, she ran her hand over her mouth and wondered if she would be able to hold in her temper, all her bile, for her daughter's sake. After all, Toriko was going home with that thing...

_"Either he's a really good father or she's staying with him for some terribly compelling reason... I hope she's not stupid enough to stay around if he's hurting her."_

"Lady Kurama," Lord Godo said, firmly but too late. "Watch your language."

"I have a rare sort of disease that makes me spit obscenities, my lord," Seishi lied glibly. "It's not something I can really fucking help."

Princess Yuffie looked delighted. Children of a healthy, active disposition usually were when swears abounded in plenty.

Looking at the tired and blood-smeared dignitaries before her, Seishi inclined her head politely and said, "I will send a dispatch to the palace, my lord, so you may be properly escorted home. I would offer my own forces, except I'm not so sure I can trust them after tonight..."

The Vice President cocked his shotgun and glanced around. His Turks were doing the same—with a jolt, Seishi realized the _ainoko_ Turk and the bald one that had taken Toriko away were there. Both were avoiding her gaze, ostensibly scanning the walled-in complex for threats.

_"They feel guilty for something, apparently, but for what and why?"_ Seishi glanced at Toriko and Sephiroth, who had schooled their faces into blankness. _"Could it have something to do with the fact that Sephiroth only announced her so recently? After all, they've been living together for five years now... Haven't they?"_

Geisha, guards, and other personnel of the Blue Lotus were fleeing the flames now consuming the entire building, carrying chests and bundles of fabric in their arms. Hastily setting them down in piles away from the destruction, most of them turned and gawked at the burning building. A few of the smarter ones yelled for water or for someone to get the freakin' fire brigade.

"1.2 million gil," Vice President Shin-Ra murmured, looking at the burning Lotus and shaking his head. "Damn."

Seishi heard a click and looked at Sephiroth as he took a black case from Toriko and snapped it open. When he took out a glowing green orb, she realized what he was about to do. Still, she was shocked by the sudden cascade of water that monsooned from the clear heavens, extinguishing a good part of the flames and sending up billowing, hissing columns of steam. Three more Water spells and the Blue Lotus was only charred and wet, no longer on fire. Seishi had mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, there wouldn't be quite so much of the Lotus to rebuild, but she relished the chance at taking something out of Sephiroth's hide, even if it was something as petty as money. Plus, she wouldn't get to renovate the place as fully as she would have liked.

_"On the other hand, maybe I can make a profit off of him. Toriko good as promised he'd be paying 1.2 million... He might try to wriggle out of it, but she has my interests in mind..."_

It suddenly occurred to Seishi what a strange position her daughter now had to be in. She had always been between a rock and a hard place, but never had it been made more apparent than now. There were lines of strain on her face and in her eyes that only a woman, only a mother, would have been able to see, and Seishi felt an inexplicable twinge of guilt. Sephiroth, if he noticed these things, paid no heed.

Imperial guards arrived moments later: apparently a citizen had dashed over to the Palace to inform them of the incident. It was with mixed relief and sadness that Seishi saw Toriko turn and leave, a small silent shadow in her father's wake. Seishi closed her eyes and turned to go back to her house.

_"Goodbye, Toriko,"_ Seishi thought, swallowing past the lump in her throat. _"Somehow I feel that I will not see you again."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I would have posted earlier, but a dastardly case of food poisoning and electronic sensitivity (I shit you not on this one; the smell of a hot hard drive makes me ill right now) did its diddly best to thwart me! I'm sorry for the long break, and I'm sorry in advance because it's quite likely that it'll be a while until the next chapter too. I need time to sort things out and figure out the difference between where I want things to go and where things should be going.

On dA: Some original chibies. Originally it was supposed to be something stupid I did to Tseng's hair, but I forgot to screencap it and I fixed it... Oh poo. Oh well.

/\/\/\/\/\


	97. Chapter 89

Put Your Lights On

8.23.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Eighty-Nine

/\/\/\/\/\

The carriage ride back to the Imperial Palace was long and silent. As usual, it was all the Continentals in one cabin, which was spacious enough to accommodate the additions of Rude and Toriko. Rude sat on the same side as Tseng, with Rufus dozing between them; Dark Nation sat on their feet. Reno was on Sephiroth and Toriko's side, with Reno closest to the door and Sephiroth by the window. Toriko sat in the middle, so short her feet didn't even touch the carriage floor. Her eyes closed, her hands clasped in her lap, she would have looked like she was napping if not for her ramrod straight back.

"I am beat," Reno yawned. In the chaos of the night's events, he'd lost his fashion glasses and his neatly pomaded hair had become quite mussed; he looked a great deal more like his regular self. "I am ready for a hot shower and a hot drink, and then I am going to hit the sack like an old woman with a broomstick and a dirty carpet."

Tseng just nodded. Reno guessed he was too tired to tell him to shut up and be professional.

Toriko suddenly sat up, rubbing her eyes. Reno glanced at her and saw that the girl was literally falling asleep sitting up. As she closed her eyes again, she almost immediately began to slump over—and then immediately sit back up as she realized what she was doing. As this little dance repeated for the next couple of minutes, Reno bemusedly realized that little Toriko looked like she was having a seizure.

His brow furrowed. Maybe she was. His eyes strayed to the ripped part of her hoodie, where that ninja woman's knife had plunged into her shoulder...

_"Well, no doubt about it now,"_ Reno thought as he saw nothing but clean, healed flesh behind the rip. _"She's our missing specimen..."_

It made Reno wonder if she was also really Sephiroth's daughter. Sure they looked alike, but what if the man was watching over her just because she was another specimen? It wasn't something the Turks bruited about, but at some point in time they'd all seen Sephiroth in the lab... Stark naked, in a tank, with lots of itty-bitty wires and flashing lights hooked up to him. It made Reno's blood run cold just thinking about it, because the sheer amount of gadgetry that was stabbed into the man was just not human.

And surely Sephiroth wouldn't want anyone to go through that, especially not a cute little girl. Reno's mouth twitched: the idea of the mighty General feeling guilt was an almost laughable idea, especially considering that he probably hit said cute little girl on a regular basis. _"She heals so fast," _Reno thought, eying the rip in her shoulder again. _"He could be breaking her bones every night and we'd never know."_

"Tori, just go to sleep," Rufus murmured; his eyes opened just a crack as Toriko twitched herself into wakefulness again. "Don't fight the fatigue."

"I'm not that tired," Toriko mumbled back, rubbing her eyes.

"I'll wake you up when we get there," Sephiroth said, gazing out of the window.

For some reason, the sound of his voice made her sit up, suddenly more alert—that wasn't to say Toriko was a hundred percent awake, but she now looked able to function. "You're not... Aren't you angry with me?" She asked in a small voice.

Sephiroth looked at her, his expression dry. "1.2 million gil's worth of angry?" He asked, and Toriko looked down at the ground. Reno watched as the silver-haired man reached out and ruffled his "daughter's" headscarf, saying, "You don't ask me for much. And money's not everything. How's your shoulder?"

"It's fine," Toriko said, a small smile on her lips.

Rufus closed his eyes, covering his mouth to stifle a yawn. Tseng's brows rose as the young man quite casually tipped over and used his shoulder as a pillow.

_"At least it's not his lap,"_ Reno thought with a smirk.

Out of the corner of his eye, Reno saw Sephiroth and Toriko also shifting their positions slightly. When he turned to look, Toriko was dozing peacefully against her father's side, his arm looped loosely around her waist as he continued to look out of the window. It was cute... But Reno refused to be taken in.

_"I'm watching you, jackass," _Reno swore inside his head, folding his arms across his chest and half-closing his eyes; ostensibly he was napping, but he was really watching Sephiroth and Toriko. _"I'm going to find really unpleasant things to do to you if you hit your daughter ever again..."_

Reno closed his eyes. A second later the carriage rolled to a stop, and Reno realized he'd drifted off. Quickly sitting up, he covertly swiped at his eyes as everyone else stirred themselves from various states of slumber and glanced around: Rufus seemed to have realized he'd fallen asleep on Tseng and was looking slightly pink in the face. Rude covered his mouth as he yawned. Toriko was now sitting up, looking just barely conscious. Sephiroth stretched and rubbed his shoulder, glancing at the carriage door. Reno got the hint and opened it at once, hopping outside to check for threats.

The first thing he noticed was the five-man deep ranks of red-lacquered soldiers surrounding him—no, not him, but the carriages that had just rolled in. Apparently they'd entered the main courtyard in the carriages, a sound move security-wise: no potshots from unknown assailants in here. Lord Godo and his people were already dismounting, and Reno stepped away from the carriage door, nodding to the people inside to signal that it was safe.

Tseng exited first, nearly tripping over and elegantly recovering from Dark Nation sliding out at the same time; the pantheround coiled like a snake by the carriage steps as Rufus came out of the dark carriage. In the torchlights of the large courtyard, Reno could see that the older youth was dirtied and mussed: white was not a good color for hiding soot and blood spatter. This was obvious with Sephiroth, who came out next and whose torn and bloodied shirt made it obvious that something big had just gone down. He turned, holding his hand out, and Toriko took it delicately as she stepped out, almost jumping down from the carriage. Rude exited last and shut the carriage door behind him.

"My lord!" An armed woman—sheez, Wutai sure had a lot of them—came out of the ranks, dressed in burnished business armor and carrying a long sword at her hip. "We'd heard the worst—are you alright?"

"Fine, Chekhov," Lord Godo said. Pushing his daughter forward, he said, "Please see that she gets to bed safely. She mentioned something about assassins."

"I understand, my lord," Chekhov said with a bow. Snapping her fingers, she summoned a pair of guards out of the ranks and nodded Yuffie over to them, saying, "See that she sleeps safely tonight, or else." As the men saluted and escorted the princess off, Chekhov looked back at Lord Godo. "Lord Godo, there's no excuse for our laxity. If we'd only—"

Lord Godo cut her off with a wave of his hand. "We'll talk about this in the morning," he said tiredly. Looking at Rufus, he asked, "Is this acceptable, Mr. Vice President?"

"Yes," Rufus said, stifling a yawn. "We'll all think more clearly in the morning."

Reno saw Sephiroth and Toriko melting off into the shadows: impressive, considering their glowing eyes and Sephiroth's reputation. Reno discreetly followed them as they wove through the myriad buildings of the Imperial Palace before ending up at their rooms. Reno watched from a far corner as Sephiroth picked up Toriko and set her on his shoulders.

"Reno," Tseng's voice buzzed in his ear: it was a cochlear radio that worked by activating the small bones in a Turk's ear, so only the receiving Turk could hear the transmission. "Where are you?"

"Keeping tabs on the General and his kid," Reno subvocalized back. It was no mean trick to literally swallow the words—to form them in the throat and do everything but actually speak them—but it was something every Turk had to learn how to do. It was the only way to speak back over the cochlear radio without being heard. "They're ninja'ing back into their room."

"Why?"

"Dunno. Privacy?" Reno watched as Toriko picked the window open and slid in. A second later, Sephiroth hopped up, caught the edge of the frame, and hauled himself in. The window thumped shut. "Checking it out."

Skittering through the shadows, Reno slid right up under the window and hooked his fingers in the artistically exposed beams that covered the exterior of nearly every Wutaiese house. A short hop and climb later, Reno was right next to the slightly ajar window, and he peeked cautiously in to see just what was so important that Sephiroth and Toriko had to go sneaking off by themselves.

Anticlimactically, Toriko was already curled into bed—a Wutaiese pallet on the floor, Reno noticed, not a Continental one—and the partition between her room and her father's was open. Leaning slightly back, Reno could see into the General's darkened chambers. The man appeared to be disrobing.

_"Going for a bath?" _Reno wondered as Sephiroth picked up a bathrobe—again, Wutaiese instead of Continental—and a towel. _"And he's just leaving his kid here?"_

Apparently so. Reno watched Sephiroth get dressed and then leave the room in a quiet padding of feet. Toriko slumbered deeply on her pallet, curled up so tight into her blankets that she looked like a bean or a kitten. Reno eased the window open and slid into her room, glad for the first time that Tseng was such a fanatic about the Turks being flexible: it let him glide in like a snake. Reno turned around and quietly closed the window.

"Hello, Reno," Toriko said sleepily. Reno swore and nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning around with one hand over his heart.

"...hi," he said in a strangled whisper. "How'd you know it was me?"

"You're predictable," Toriko murmured. Rolling over, she yawned and said, "You're so suspicious of Father and me... And you're new enough to act on those suspicions. You're worrying Tseng."

"You know too much," Reno huffed, nonetheless walking over to her. His voice softened as he knelt by her bed. "How are you feeling, kiddo?"

"Very tired," Toriko whispered back. "Father says I nearly died."

"Shit, yeah," Reno said, eyeing her wound. "Lucky you're not, uh..."

Toriko's eyes opened and she turned to face him, her expression at the same time clinically cool and frightened. "Are you going to turn me over to Hojo?" She whispered.

"No, I'm not," Reno whispered back.

"Are you sure?" She pressed. "Orders are orders."

"Only from your dad," Reno said. "He gave us a royal chewing out the last time we took orders without passing them through him." He paused, and then chuckled, shaking his head. "You know, it's a good thing you're related to him. 1.2 million gil, man..."

"It's not like it would beggar him," Toriko said, and something in her voice made Reno look at her with a frown. "And it's a large enough sum of money that Lady Kurama would be impressed... Impressed enough to let the matter lie."

Reno blinked. "You mean... You threw her a bone?"

"That seems to be the right expression," Toriko said, hunkering into her blankets. Inexplicably she sounded guilty.

Reno watched her for a moment. "Toriko... How do you know that Kurama woman?"

Toriko sighed. "She's my aunt."

"Your aunt?"

"On my mother's side," Toriko said. "She hates Father with a passion. She was actually pretty mild today—I guess she was trying to hold back for me."

She closed her eyes then and Reno sat back, leaning against the wall. The Wutaiese believed in hardwood floors, but they also liked flat, blanket-like carpets that were pretty comfortable. Still, the wood was hard on Reno's bum as he tried to make himself comfortable at Toriko's side, and he wriggled around for a few minutes before spotting a closet in the corner. Surely there had to be some extra cushions and stuff inside...

Reno stood up and walked over to the closet, sliding it open to reveal neatly folded stacks of futons, comforters, and pillows inside. Reno looked at the bedding for a while before reaching for a pillow—no sense in making himself too comfortable—and turned around to see Sephiroth kneeling at his daughter's side. Reno bit back a swear and nearly dropped the pillow.

Sephiroth didn't seem to be aware of him. He was sitting at Toriko's side, absently stroking her hair with his fingertips; with a start, Reno realized Sephiroth wasn't wearing his usual black leather gloves. Reno stood very still as Sephiroth continued to stroke Toriko's hair, his expression strangely soft and worried.

Then suddenly he looked up, his eyes sharpening to hostile green slits, and Reno just about peed his pants.

"Something for you?" He asked in a deceptively calm voice.

Reno shook his head. Still holding the pillow, he walked very quickly out of the room and shut the door behind him. Then Reno walked down the hall and did not stop until he was in his own quarters, the ones he shared with Tseng and Rude. The two of them had apparently just come in, and they looked at him strangely as he entered.

"Something wrong, Reno?" Tseng asked as Reno shut the door behind him.

"Uh..." Reno swallowed. He couldn't explain the inexplicable compulsion that had suddenly come over him, the driving need to _get the hell out of Toriko's room_. "Um..."

"What's the pillow for?" Rude asked, pointing.

Reno looked down, and he saw himself clutching it with white-knuckled hands. His palms were sweaty. Why the fuck were they sweaty?

"I, uh..." Reno looked at Tseng. "Um... They just went to sleep." When Tseng frowned, Reno added, "Really, that's all they did. Toriko and I talked a little bit and then I came here."

Tseng and Rude just looked at him for a long time, not saying anything. Then Tseng nodded, saying, "Okay, Reno," as Rude went to the coffeemaker in the corner and poured a cup of coffee. This he handed wordlessly to Reno, who took it in one nerveless hand and downed it regardless of the scalding heat and bitterness. It burned away some of his irrational fear.

"Why don't you take a shower, Reno?" Tseng said not unkindly. "Rude and I've already had one, and we both feel better."

"Yeah," Reno said, nodding. He put down the pillow, heading over to the duffel bag where he kept all his things. "Yeah, a shower sounds good..."

He didn't notice Rude and Tseng looking at him strangely as he dug for new clothes, nor the two of them watching him as he swept out of the room for his shower. If he'd chosen to stay around, he would have seen Rude mutter a swear and Tseng cover his face, murmuring, "I'd hoped to spare him from that particular horror a little longer..."

"It's a Turk hazard," Rude said, sitting on his bed. " 'The-General-scares-us-shitless' Syndrome. Happens to everyone who ticks him off somehow."

"Reno's young and protective, that's the problem," Tseng said, sitting down as well. "I told him to keep his nose out of Sephiroth's parenting skills..."

Rude nodded. Neither of them spoke about the obvious, the possibility that the beatings Reno was so bent out of shape about could actually be serious. It was not the Turks' job to stop those sort of things, but it was the Turks' job to hush them up. There were parts of the job that were truly distasteful.

"I'm going to sleep," Rude said, making Tseng look at him in surprise. "Good night, Tseng."

"Good night, Rude," Tseng said quietly. As Rude shut off the light on his side of the room, Tseng raked his hand through his hair and sighed before doing the same. He lay down in bed and stared up at the ceiling until Reno came back from his shower, and he pretended not to notice when Reno began to cry and flinch in his sleep. Tseng shut his eyes and wished he had some drugs.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Reno's reliving a not so nice childhood. Rude is presumably sleeping the sleep of the blameless. Tseng is having issues.

This is sort of an odd chapter. I don't really know what to say about it, except that nobody's comfortable or entirely normal. Sephiroth really hates being seen as weak/nice even though it's becoming obvious he's becoming plastic for his daughter; that is the cause of the Reno-freaking.

/\

And I threw in the blanket/carpet thing because the Koreans do it, and the Wutaiese aren't straight-up Japanese anyway. Chekhov is most definitely a Russian name.

/\

New picture on dA: it's of an older Tori, again. I can't help drawing her, she's just so darn easy! It's called "Study in Black", which is a fancy name for "I FINALLY GOT A SCANNER and I want to try expressing different textures". Go check it out. Shininess abounds.

/\

On a vaguely related note, I am hearing many tales of WTF moments from Dirge of Cerberus. All I can say is that with a name like that, we knew there were going to be some overblown moments. Also, what's a game without WTF moments? Boring, that's what. I'm looking forward to finding these places of wonder and wondering.

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	98. Evil bonus

PYLO Evil Seishi Bonus!

8.22.06

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PYLO (Put Your Lights On) is a fanfiction by kleptomaniac0, which therefore by definition mean that the FFVII characters do not belong to the author and ergo do not garner any profit for said person. If sued, the author will simultaneously freeze and combust. This will result in a local hailstorm of flaming comets. Therefore... Yeah, you get the picture.

/\/\/\/\/\

What Seishi does when the Continentals leave...

/\/\/\/\/\

Seishi poked someone's hand lying severed on the floor, still clutching a kunai. She had left Yoko and Tsukiko outside; they needed no further trauma in their lives. Seishi didn't particularly care for gore either, but someone needed to supervise the mercenaries, now back in their own minds, and the girls who had remained loyal to her and Wutai. The former was cleaning up body parts via immolation, and Seishi growled as she realized the room would need to be rebuilt in order to get rid of the smell of blood and burned flesh.

"What a fucking fuck of a mess," she said, half to herself and half to whoever happened to be listening. Noting the clean slicing, regardless of bone and muscle, Seishi curled her lip in disgust and thought, _"Well, at least that bastard is thorough..."_

Seishi heard the sounds of retching, which immediately made her look up. None of the mercenaries had vomited at the sight of gore; they were all veterans and had seen worse things. Seishi had as well, during her tenure as the Demon's prisoner. Whoever had been throwing up in hearing range had never seen the cost of war before.

_"Suzu..."_

And as if summoned by her name, there she was, being hauled in by a limping but still fierce-looking Nanashi. Suzu was struggling, but even injured, Nanashi was stronger than she was, jerking her along with her arm in a viselike grip.

"Caught her trying to run for it," Nanashi growled, shoving the other woman to her knees. Suzu's hands slapped in the sheen of blood coating the floor and at once she recoiled: Seishi could see how the blood had completely left her face, as if that brief touch had drained it from her body. Well, if it wanted to join the rest of the liquid on the floor that badly...

"Thank you, Nanashi," Seishi said, tugging the top of her dragon-headed cane. With a click and a steely hiss, Seishi drew the slim, Continental-style rapier she had built into the thing, taking perverse satisfaction in the way Suzu turned ash gray.

"Y...you wouldn't!" The geisha gasped, falling backwards.

"Wouldn't what?" Seishi asked, pointing the rapier at her once-headwoman. Suzu cried softly, flinching away from the blade and trying to shield herself with her sleeve. "Tell me, what wouldn't I do, Suzu? You've made me very angry and as you said a few hours ago, what would I know of honor... Or morals, for that matter?" Leaning down, Seishi asked in her low, rasping voice, "What _wouldn't_ I do to you, Suzu?"

Suzu stared at her in horror, tears beginning to roll out of her eyes. "Please... I..."

"There's nothing you can say that will prevent your demise..." Seishi said, touching her rapier delicately to Suzu's neck. Her blood was afire now, a combination of her body's illness and the quick excitement of power. For a moment, Seishi understood Sephiroth's need for cruelty, for control, as Suzu went perfectly still.

"...I'm very tempted to do this myself," Seishi said, drawing her blade lightly down Suzu's long white neck. So delicately did she touch the woman's throat that only a faint red scratch showed on her skin. "You have made me unbelievably angry, not only for what you've done to my business and nearly done to our country, but also because you forced my child to place herself in danger... And to choose that man over me again." Seishi eased her grip on her rapier hilt to stop the point from shaking and accidentally drawing blood; it was jiggling already. Resting her rapier's point in the hollow of Suzu's throat, Seishi continued, "Those hours I was helpless in my house, I thought of many things I could do to you... Things I know that are painful, because they were done to me. How would you like to have a knife shoved up your cunt?"

Truthfully that had never happened to her, though there had been impalements all the same. In any case, Suzu looked like she was about ready to faint. Out of the corner of her eye, Seishi saw Nanashi frown at her, imperceptible but still disapproving.

"Nanashi, how are your injuries?" She asked, looking at her kunoichi.

"Not as bad as they could be, my lady," Nanashi said. "I'll live."

"Are you up to handing this thing..." She jerked her head at Suzu. "To the Lord of Wutai's justice?"

"It would be a rare pleasure," Nanashi said, smiling toothily.

"I'll send some girls with you so you are not so taxed," Seishi said, waving; at once, two Blue Lotus girls—regular serving girls, not kunoichi—saw her motion and came over, lifting their hems free of the blood. "Will you need anything to bind Suzu with?"

"...it wouldn't hurt," Nanashi said, looking critically at her peer-now-prisoner. "It would send an appropriate message too."

"Yes it would..." Seishi sheathed her rapier with a sigh of regret. "Pity, I was looking forward to hamstringing her and burying her alive..."

"There are two conspirators still running about. I'm sure you'll have your fun, my lady."

"Fun?" Seishi leaned on her cane. "No, this is justice. This is retribution. This is a lesson for any idiot who rebels without a solid plan again. Had Suzu truly wished to succeed, she would have replaced the Kisaragi dynasty with one more favorable to her views and have build it up Wutai over the years, bring us to the point where we could challenge the Continents." Looking down at Suzu, she said severely, "It would have taken your entire lifetime, Suzu, not just a moment of triumph. You would have known that if you had ever really worked a day in your life or lived in anything but a dream world."

As Suzu's eyes glimmered with a hint of resistance, Seishi looked at one of the two girls she had signaled over and said, "Bring us those chains over there."

"Yes, my lady." The girl trotted over and came back, gingerly holding several lengths of the blood-spattered steel. "Umm, it appears to be broken..."

"My lady, if I may borrow your sword?" Nanashi asked politely.

Seishi drew her rapier again and leaned on the sheath of her blade, the circular wood biting into her palm. She watched as Nanashi deftly trussed Suzu up with the sections of chain and thrust the rapier through the links, pinning her into her bonds. The distinctive dragon head of her cane was in the front, a subtle tag to show Lord Godo's men from whom she had come. "Very nice," Seishi approved.

"Thank you, my lady," Nanashi said, bowing stiffly from the waist; Seishi wondered how injured she was. "Shall I deliver this thing now?"

"If you please."

Nanashi nodded, first at her and then at the two girls, who glanced at each other for a second before flanking Suzu and hauling the bound and weeping noblewoman to her feet. "One moment," Seishi said as they turned to go. "Suzu, look at me."

Suzu did, and Seishi punched her in the cheek, the thin skin over her knuckles breaking with the impact; it was a solid blow, one she had learned by watching brawling Continentals during the war, that put her entire weight into the impact. Suzu's head snapped to the side and she stumbled, almost falling over.

"Were I stronger, I'd give you a proper beating," Seishi said, inspecting her bleeding knuckles. She was surprised to see that her blood was still red; she had expected it to be purple or even black considering the bruised shades of her skin. "As things stand, you'll probably be handed over to the Continentals as a peace gift. I rather hope the Demon gets hold of you... Then you can see how fun it is being his whore."

Again Nanashi looked disturbed, but she did not say anything. Seishi understood her disquiet, but felt justified in saying what she had. After all, Suzu had betrayed her, and that kind of crime merited the deepest curse Seishi knew.

Bowing politely to Seishi, Nanashi nodded at the two girls and turned to go, still limping a little as she left. Completely demoralized and bruising now, Suzu let herself be hauled along and Seishi watched them disappear through the door before thumping her way over to one of the less-bloody couches and sitting gratefully on it. Now that the surge of vicious adrenaline had ebbed, she was feeling so tired.

"_But cleanup's not done yet... No resting until then."_

Seishi yawned and shook her head. Looking around the bloody performance area, she sighed heavily and closed her eye. It was going to be a very long night.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

A bit of Seishi evilness to keep y'all amused. Initially she was going to drag Suzu into an empty well and bury her alive, but I figured Toriko already has one amoral parent; two is overkill and doesn't spell well for her future at all. Plus, Seishi's not psychotic. Kinda hard to bury someone alive if you don't have that special strain in you. And yay, Nanashi's not dead!

/\/\/\/\/\


	99. LINZA bonus

_**Faithful readers, you are in for a treat. The wonderful Captain Linza, also known as Laerupeth and Super Lizard, has graciously accepted my request for her to write a guest chapter for me: sort of a more detailed/alternate Chapter 89. It's unbelievably good stuff. I saw it and squealed with joy. I take this opportunity now to advertise her with great joy and no shame: GO CHECK OUT HER STUFF. NOW. DO IT! If I don't have at least ten people telling me they've gone to her account and checked out her stuff, I will not post the next chapter. I'm not joking.**_

_**Ahem…AND NOW!**_

Put Your Lights On

Guest chapter 89

C. Linza / Super Lizard

Reno rolled to his feet with a catlike grace and haste, then paused and took the time to stretch each segment of himself separately. It was a little chilly outside of his pile of blankets, but the moonlight was inviting, streaming through the window and slithering across the hardwood floors,

up the side of the most fearsome general ever to walk the earth. Reno's pulse leapt from relaxed to pounding in less than a second and he crouched low on instinct. Sephiroth knelt beside a slumbering Toriko, except that Toriko was wide awake, staring past her father to Reno, with catlike eyes which pleaded, making her seem like a little kitten caught by a dog. Sephiroth looked back at Reno with a wolfish, toothy grin, eyes glowing green, completely devoid of pupil. Reno felt his knees go weak, and the bottom fell out of his world.

Sephiroth clasped Toriko's shoulder and began to squeeze; Reno watched Toriko's eyes go wide, but she didn't scream. As soon as Reno thought he could feel his feet, he launched himself impossibly at Sephiroth's wrist, meaning to knock loose his grasp. He failed magnificently; he pushed and pulled and bit Sephiroth's forearm, pried at his fingers, and growled in desperate frustration as he felt a crunch in Toriko's shoulder that seemed to resonate through his own. He turned to look into Sephiroth's face; as soon as he made eye-contact he stopped fighting. His blood felt chill. His heart stopped beating and he felt as if he would never breathe again. Sephiroth released Toriko, drew back, and delivered a right hook into the side of Reno's head.

Reno flew sideways, hearing a child's whimper from somewhere. He slammed into the wall and was still for a long moment. Something was whispering to him, _play dead, be still, give up,_ and something else roared at him, _fight back, god damn it._

A boot hooked Reno in the ribs, and picked him up easily. Reno felt his ribs break and begin moving freely. As he landed again, he felt the heavy boot return to the ground, and between the two objects lay his left hand. It crushed easily, the bones disconnecting from each other the way the twigs of a dry and dying tree might crumble. He was being attacked by a force he could not possibly dream of beating.

_Fight back, get up, get up and throw a punch, let me just throw one punch._

The boot returned to prod at his injured side, then slid under his slender body and picked him up. Hands descended on him, grasping him by the sides—hands that were huge in comparison to Reno's insubstantial self.

_Be still, pray for mercy, maybe you'll be well enough to see the sun by the time summer rolls around._

A chill ran through him again, freezing his bones. 'Please stop,' he thought he heard a child's voice plead. 'Stop it, _please_.' He almost yelled for Toriko to run, but as he tried to form words, he found that he was already speaking. 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please stop hitting me.' But he couldn't think of what he had done. He was deeply confused, and more than a little angry—this bastard was striking him, and he couldn't even defend himself. He was too busy whimpering like a pitiful little child. At the same time, he was frightened to his very soul, and all he could do was keep himself from returning the blows, from perhaps making things worse. He felt like he was holding himself back with as much restraint as the hands around his mid-section were applying to him.

_Don't fight back, he'll hit me harder_.

_Let me at him, I'll make sure he never hits you again._

Reno felt his center of gravity correct itself as he was turned right-side up again, impossibly strong hand closed around his skinny chest. The figure in front of him was blurry now, losing definition; now the only thing Reno could be sure of was the pair of glowing, malevolent eyes and the fury behind them. Reno was a tiny bug under the magnifying glass of a cruel child, and the vivisection was only beginning.

'You cry too much.'

His attacker grasped something in his free hand—a shard of glass, bottle glass, from something that reeked of alcohol and age; he dug it into the flesh along Reno's right cheekbone. Blood poured down Reno's cheek in streams, and tears ran from his eyes into his wound, making it sting. 'I'll make you cry.' The glass met the other cheek and sank in, meeting his other cheek with a grinding crunch that reverberated through his skull. 'You always cry so much. You're such a little girl sometimes.'

The glass pulled free of his cheek, and Reno sobbed in fear and anger and pain. 'Maybe I'll make you a girl. That'll give you something to cry about.'

Reno howled as he was tossed onto the floor. He felt like his brain was splitting

in two. _Fight back don't fight back just let it happen at least run away. _A rending pain stabbed through his mind and separated the two parts of Reno.

Before Reno's attacker could kneel over him, Reno had bounced up onto his feet and launched himself at his attacker again, fists and feet and teeth and nails, punching and kicking and clawing and biting, unable to allow any more.

The image of Sephiroth had long since melted away in Reno's mind as his mental capacities melted away into his sheer terror. Reno's father, six-foot two and menacing, laughed at him and caught each blow easily, pushing it away.

_Why can't we fight back, goddamnit?_

_You're going to get us hurt worse._

His brain screamed with agony as his thought processes separated and the physical injuries he had sustained sent him into shock. Too much, this was too much—

_This isn't what happened, it didn't happen like this; I put him in the hospital, I made the evening news, Shinra came and got me and put me through school and I healed and they made me a Turk… I'm not eleven anymore, I'm eighteen, goddamn it, it didn't happen like this._

Another inhumanly powerful but almost casual punch caught Reno directly in the middle. He felt his lungs collapse, the air rushing out, and blood rushing in. His stomach revolted, but there was nothing in it. He flew a few feet and attempted to land on his feet, but his legs wouldn't take his weight. He fell forward, every nerve firing rounds at him as the bones in his joints slammed into the immovable earth. He cursed his malnourished frame, his childhood weakness, his inability to do any more.

_What will happen to me now? _

The weakest voice in his head was no longer his own; it belonged to Toriko.

He felt a hand on his back, and the hand of fear in his heart and mind strangled him into senselessness. He screamed and screamed and screamed.

---

Tseng listened to Reno twitch, whimper, toss, groan, flail, and cry out. He knew waking the other Turk would cause embarrassment on all parts; he would wait it out. Across the room, a very awake Rude stared up at the dark ceiling, twisting the blankets in his hands.

Rude had been the Turk sent to investigate the reports of the amazing eleven-year-old who had sustained life-threatening wounds and still broken most of the bones in his sizable father's body, run away, called an ambulance from a payphone, and disappeared into the streets of Midgar for almost a week before someone sighted him and brought him to the hospital.

As a young man of twenty-four, Rude had walked through the house, looking for information about the boy's living conditions. He had seen the cracks in the walls, the broken windows, and the dirty pile of blankets in the corner where a few baseball cards and an old comic book marked a child's home. He had seen the piles of beer bottles, the blood stains on the dirty linoleum floors, the rat droppings, the roaches that scurried about in broad daylight with no fear. Under the refrigerator, he sighted a corner of paper; he dug it out with his pocket knife, and held the faded magic-marker drawing up to the light. On yellowed paper, in clumsy lines that could have belonged to a six-year-old, there were two stick figures and an oblong crescent which represented a grave. The labels for the stick figures read 'daddy' and 'reno'—with a backwards R. The label for the grave read 'mommy.' In a little speech bubble, scribbled in a wavy line over the smallest stick figure, a sentence of text revealed more about the subject of the investigation than meeting him ever could.

'reno loves daddy'

Rude stayed crouched on the kitchen floor, staring at the drawing, for nearly an hour. He pondered over and over again how a creature could exist that could show love for someone who showed only hatred in return. He wondered how such a creature could be driven to attack and physically incapacitate someone they loved. He dreaded the idea that this action may have removed from the world the same capacity to love that held it back. He feared what the child had become as a result. He was ordered to investigate this lethal boy as a potential candidate for the Turks after proper rehabilitation. He wondered what rehabilitation might mean. He wondered, and he wondered, and he wondered; then he folded up the drawing, tucked it in his jacket pocket, and steeled himself to make his report on the apartment.

Tseng had been busy. There was, after all, a war going on. Tseng half-listened to Rude's report, and then considered the situation from the standpoint of a superior officer. Rude went through assignments with the same efficiency his fist went through faces. Tseng didn't have anything in particular to keep the man occupied, so he let Rude occupy himself. He suggested Rude continue his investigation by meeting with the boy and analysing his psychiatric and physical condition.

Rude agreed and obeyed. The visit to the hospital changed the course of Rude's life.

The Turk in training was granted immediate access to the red-haired boy; the hospital staff had him tied to the bed with nylon cord as well as the hospital standard wrist and leg straps. The boy flailed and growled every time a male entered the room—the rest of the time, he was nearly comatose. He didn't eat, he didn't drink, and he didn't talk. The room was kept at a balmy 75 degrees, but still he shivered.

Rude strode into the room alone, leaving the doctor and the hall director outside to watch. He steeled himself against the boy's outburst, and approached the bed. He knelt next to it, careful to keep a comfortable distance, then tried talking.

'My name is Rude,' he said. 'What's your name?'

The boy met his eyes fearfully and growled. The bandages on his cheekbones twitched.

'Your name is Reno.'

Reno whined and shook, struggling to shimmy as far away as the bonds would allow. He began to look a lot like a frightened animal.

'I was sent here to meet you.'

Reno growled again.

Rude considered for a moment the idea that he might be speaking to a human that had lost his humanity, and knew instantly that this made him ideal material to be a Turk later in life. The idea nearly made Rude vomit. He stood and backed away a step, and reached for his notebook in his jacket pocket. His hand ran across the dry construction paper, and he drew it out instead. After a moment's more consideration, he knelt again, unfolded it, and showed it to the boy.

The boy's eyes had locked onto it, and the anger and hatred drained away instantly, leaving the crystalline blue intelligence Rude had predicted from the drawing. But without the anger and the hate, the only thing that seemed left in the boy's skinny little shell seemed to be desolate fear.

Rude dropped the drawing in favour of removing the restraints as quickly as he could and offering his arms to the boy. Reno, backed against the other side of the bed with tubes coming out of his arms and his red hair sticking every which way, had stared at Rude in pure confusion.

This boy no longer understood human touch.

Rude's steely composure broke, and he began to weep. He pulled the scrawny boy to his chest and held him, stroking the boy's back and murmuring comforting things as much to himself as to the creature in his arms.

Reno shook like a leaf, his mind unable to wrap itself around what was happening. He began to cry quietly, and buried his face in Rude's impeccably starched shirt. His tears soaked the bandages on his face, which stung and made him cry harder.

'I'll look after you, don't worry,' Rude found himself promising after the boy had fallen asleep. 'I'll teach you to defend yourself from anything. I'll make sure you know what you need to survive.' Rude had, for a moment, wished that the yellowed marker drawing had shown himself, in place of Reno's father, and that the grave had contained that man who had done this, instead. It would have been a little closer to right.

Rude left the room, found Reno's father's hospital room, and quietly snapped the man's neck. Then, he went home, washed the tears out of his shirt, and reported for duty the next morning having slept more soundly for having committing murder. He recommended Reno be tagged for future consideration. Reno entered therapy, then the educational system, and in five short years had shown some progress in the latter, but less in the former. He was an angry, brash, cheerful, caring, detached, emotional, violent, gentle bundle of contradictions that demanded attention and appeared to need nothing. Rude made subtle efforts to affect the young man's life—such as pushing his acceptance into the Turks—but stayed out of sight. To the current day, he wasn't sure that Reno even remembered meeting him in the hospital.

--

But the connection made the current situation nearly unbearable for Rude. Every whimper and whine turned his stomach and activated paternal instincts he was pretty sure he didn't have the right to feel. It took a great effort to regulate his own breathing so that Tseng thought he was asleep, and an even greater effort not to launch himself across the room and shake Reno into wakefulness.

When Reno's cries finally became too much for him, Rude got to his feet and moved to Reno's side of the room, setting a hand against his fellow Turk's back. With a jolt, the cries transformed into a series of hysterical screams. Tseng fumbled for the oil lamp next to his bed; by the time he had the wick turned up and the lamplight at a decent glow, Rude had pulled Reno to him and wrapped his arms around him tightly, physically restraining Reno's near-convulsions and preventing him from hurting himself. Reno's eyes were wide open, but glazed over with fear, staring as if the devil stood before him.

There was a pounding at the door, and Rufus's voice boomed at them, surly for having been disturbed. "What the hell?" he demanded.

Tseng opened the door halfway and peered out at Rufus. "Sorry, sir," he reported. "It seems that Reno is having a panic attack. We'll shut him up."

Rufus peered past Tseng, to Rude, eyes widening slightly. "No shit."

Rude nodded, employing a good deal of his physical strength to hold Reno down.

"Anything I can do to help?" Rufus asked, his voice softer.

"Do you have any sedatives?" Rude asked before Tseng could respond.

The vice-president nodded, then disappeared from the doorway. A moment later, he slipped into the room and produced a small pill bottle from his bathrobe. He popped the cap off and looked at Rude, waiting for a cue of some sort.

Rude shifted the still-convulsing Reno, allowing his head to tip back. Rufus dropped two of the pills into Reno's mouth, then winced as Reno choked, coughed spasmodically, then swallowed. He stopped screaming, and his struggling lessened a little.

After a good minute and a half, Rude loosened his hold on Reno and laid him back down on the bed. Reno's hands remained twisted in Rude's bathrobe, but the older man didn't seem to notice. Rude alternatively grasped Reno's shoulders and moved a hand over his hair. "Reno. Reno, calm down. You're all right. Reno, listen to me. You're all right."

The door of the room slid open again, and Toriko crept unnoticed into the room. She padded, cat-like, to the pile of blankets and crowd of people that marked Reno's huddle, and pushed her way in between Tseng and Rufus. She'd been awoken by the waves of fear that strengthened after Reno fell asleep; all of her attempts at comforting him mentally had failed. She had a few glimpses of the pictures and sounds in his mind, but couldn't put together anything but the idea of sheer terror. She wanted to try again in closer proximity—after all, the young man spent so much time worrying about her, she might as well return the favour.

Rufus and Tseng saw her and started to object to her presence, but Reno interrupted them with a loud whimper.

"T-toriko?" He locked eyes with her.

"I'm here, Reno," she said soothingly.

"Rude? Rude?" he begged vaguely. "…Rude!"

Rude set his hand on Reno's shoulder. "I'm here."

"Save Toriko," Reno pleaded, "Don't let anything happen to her."

"Toriko's fine, Reno," Tseng tried to sound reassuring. "She's right here. Tell him you're okay, Toriko."

Toriko was silent, attempting to manipulate Reno's mind. He was deep in a wad of terror so pure she didn't know why he hadn't yet wet himself. _I'm here, and I'm fine, Reno. Don't worry. He can't touch me._

Reno let out a low whine, then fell back against the blankets and was still. His heart was beating a million miles per hour, but was steadying itself gradually. He stared into nothingness, eyes glazed and unseeing. Toriko was unsure if the change was due to her mental meddling or the medication.

Toriko blinked owlishly at Rude. "Is he prone to attacks like this, often?"

Rude shook his head. "Your dad spooked him."

"I think 'spooked' is an understatement," Tseng said entirely without mirth.

"He does that," Toriko acknowledged. _Father, have you been scaring the help?_

There was a short pause before the reply. _They have to learn our boundaries._

_I know. But did you have to do _this_ to him?_

_This doesn't count. That wasn't only me._

_Not only you?_ Toriko repeated skeptically. She touched Reno's face, wondering if physical contact could give her any more clues about the Turk's condition. The only clue she gathered was the relentless trembling. _Poor Reno. _He acted like such a careless, brash ass, but it was only a cover. Toriko understood these things; she lived with such a man. But there wasn't much she could do for Reno now; he was deep in some drug-induced stupor, and alone with his terrors. It wasn't something Toriko could solve with one mental push. She hesitated for a moment, then leaned over and hugged Reno awkwardly. It wasn't much, but at least he wouldn't fall asleep wondering if she was safe. With her ear pressed against his chest, Toriko could hear Reno's heartbeat gradually slowing down and his breathing evening out; when she straightened, his eyes were closed and he was deeply asleep.

Rufus shook his head, then stood up and started out. "Keep an eye on him, eh?"

Rude nodded to his boss.

"Don't worry, we'll take care of this," Tseng said. He looked at Toriko meaningfully, who nodded dutifully and returned to her room, keeping tabs mentally on Reno. She sensed the protective and warm thoughts of the two other Turks, and allowed herself to fall asleep, knowing that the Turks took care of their own. But the severity of Reno's condition disquieted her, as well as her father's casual admission that Reno's terror hadn't been entirely his fault. Her father's frightening emerald gaze had evidently and inadvertently triggered some sort of past trauma. Toriko shut her eyes and brooded herself to sleep.

_Will I cause panic attacks like that, one day?_

No one answered her.

Author's note 

EEEEEE! Isn't it awesome? I would totally marry Linza if she were a dude and unattached. I am in ancient cathedral-like awe of this incredible piece of Turk exposition. It's the Reno show, man, and we are totally into it. If you could see me now, there'd be little hearts popping off the top of my head. I adore you, Linza. You are like salt.


	100. Chapter 90

Put Your Lights On

8.27.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Ninety

/\/\/\/\/\

After the incident at the Blue Lotus, it was no surprise that the Continentals decided to go back early: Lord Godo seemed a mixture of resigned and relieved, for reasons that were easy to understand. From Wutai back to Midgar was a quick Gelnika ride across the ocean. From there, everyone went to what they called home: the Turks to their apartments in the Building, Rufus to his penthouse in the heart of the city, and Toriko and Sephiroth to their place closer to the edge. Since Toriko technically had the rest of the week off from school, Sephiroth decided it was a good time to get a good understanding of the true extent of her abilities.

_"The Blue Lotus showed me that she definitely needs more experience against people... But who? She still refuses to spar against me and Nanashi's gone AWOL... She probably decided to stay in Wutai. Well, it doesn't matter. Toriko has the technical skills of a _kunoichi_ now; she just needs to fight."_

The only people he could think of who might spar against her would be the fourteen-year-old trainees at the Garrison. However, her equals in strength and skill would be SOLDIERS. But no SOLDIER would ever spar with a little girl, especially if she beat him...

_"Hmm, who in the Seventh won't mind fighting a little girl?" _Sephiroth ran over the mental dossier he kept of his special squad, men he had assembled from various companies over the years. Though they were not the strongest of the armed forces, every man in the Seventh was a gifted thinker and worked just as well alone as he did in a group. The men were also, as a rule, very easygoing, because Lord knew they had to be in order to deal with him on a semi-regular basis.

_"The new one, Zack... He's only nineteen and he'll probably take a liking to her... He'll probably also go easy on her, but that'll be all right until she builds up some confidence. When that happens, I can move her on to some more experienced opponents..."_

He did allow Toriko a day to relax before informing her of his plan. As Sephiroth predicted, her face went completely still and she regarded him with a look of blank attentiveness that just seemed to shout, "I really don't want to do this."

"Don't worry," he said to her as they drove over to the Garrison. "You'll be using blunted weapons and I'll make sure he doesn't hurt you."

"Accidents still happen."

"Not when I'm around."

Toriko just rubbed her shoulder and looked out of the window. Sephiroth pretended not to see the motion and ignored the twitch of guilt in his stomach.

Zack was waiting for them at the front of the Garrison when they arrived. His black hair, unruly as ever, was just as energetic as his smile.

"Wassuuuup...sir!" He said brightly, saluting as Sephiroth got out of his car.

"At ease, Zack," Sephiroth said, chuckling. Nodding at Toriko as she slid out, he said, "Tori, this is Zackary Bing."

"Pleased to meet you," Toriko said politely, inclining her head at him.

Zack humorously did the same. "Pleased to meet you too, missy. So your dad tells me you're looking for a sparring partner?"

She nodded. It was what they had agreed on, for this to be all her idea. "Father won't spar with me," she said. "He's afraid he'll hurt me by accident."

"Probably," Zack agreed. "In all fairness, you should know I might do that too. I'll try my best not to, but... Well, I think you'd be better off with the trainees."

"Fourteen-year-old boys are immature," Toriko said with just the right note of weary disdain. "Plus, half the time _they_ don't know what they're doing. I'd rather spar with someone who presents a realistic challenge."

Zack's brows shot up and Sephiroth could see his mouth twitching as he bravely suppressed a smile. "Okay," he said, his voice a bit higher for hiding his chuckles. "Alrighty then—shall we get started?"

"If you please," Toriko said, nodding.

The Garrison was running quietly, smoothly, like a well-oiled machine. There was no trace of the bombing a few months back, aside from some scorch marks on the courtyard and one wall being slightly paler than the others, indicating newness. Men about their work nodded or waved at Zack, saluted Sephiroth, and ventured light greetings or curious stares at Toriko. Tori, always uncomfortable with attention, seemed to shrink and Sephiroth sighed a little.

The three of them went to a sparring room, one of several located underneath the Garrison. A huge number painted on the floor of the football-sized room marked it as practice room 5, and it was completely empty save for two benches near the door. Sephiroth's footsteps, quiet as they were, echoed in the space, and Zack's footsteps pounded like thunder.

"This is practice room 5," Zack said to Toriko, though she must have figured that out for herself; Sephiroth took a seat by the door as Zack turned around, adopting 'teacher mode' with Tori. "There are four others, all of them having a different kind of landscape; there's slope, uneven, hill, and forest. We'll start off with this one and move to the others later. Sound good?" Toriko nodded and Zack picked up a pair of swords from the other bench, both of them made of blunted steel. "Now these are the ones the trainees use; they're about two and a half pounds, not that heavy when it comes to swords. It doesn't seem like much now, but—"

"Can we use the ones you use?"

"What, you mean the Second Class practice swords?"

"Mm-hmm."

Zack frowned. "Um... Well..."

"She can handle them," Sephiroth said, bemusedly watching the exchange.

Zack looked at him for a moment, troubled, and then back at Toriko. "Ya know... They weigh more than you do. Even if you can swing 'em, you're gonna have some problem with physics."

"Physics?" Toriko repeated, frowning.

"Mm." Zack rubbed his chin. "How do I put this... Damn, I wish I'd paid more attention in that class... Well, what it comes down to is that the weight of the sword would kinda fling you around."

Toriko looked puzzled. Sephiroth was similarly perplexed, but then again weight had never been a problem for him. He was abnormally heavy for a man his size, even a SOLDIER, who was a rule tended to weigh about ten percent more than a regular person the same size. Something about The Process made SOLDIERS' bodies denser than normal.

_"The same is probably true with Tori, but Zack doesn't know that..."_

Zack went on talking. "Imagine if you tried to swing at me; you'd have to lean back to apply enough force to the sword so it doesn't go flying out of your hands." He frowned again, saying, "Are you... No, you're getting this at all, are you?"

"No," Toriko said, sounding truly confused.

Zack rubbed the back of his neck. "...Hold on," he said, jogging out of the practice room. Toriko looked at Sephiroth, and he could feel her sorting out her thoughts.

_"Father..." _She thought slyly._ "If I can't spar up to my ability, then what's the point—"_

_"Nice try, but no."_

Zack was back a few minutes later with two different practice swords; one of them was plain steel and the other was lead-cored and sheathed in titanium. Zack looked at the two of them for a moment, looked at Toriko, and then handed her the steel one.

"Swing that around for a while," he said. His voice was cheerful, showing no trace of the disbelief he must have felt at handing her the Third Class practice weapon. Toriko took the weapon and looked at it critically; she held it with two hands, but not because she needed to.

_"It's just like when I was carrying the Masamune..." _Sephiroth could hear her thinking. _"It's too long for me. The balance is strange..."_

_"Maybe it's an inferior piece of equipment."_

_"I don't think so, Father..." _She tested the balance by setting the blade on one finger and holding it out at arm's length, where it remained perfectly horizontal. Sephiroth could hear the click of Zack's jaw dropping. _"Yes, it's just too long for me. And I think I'm starting to see what Zack was talking about..."_

"Let's begin," she said, looking at Zack and taking the sword back in her hands. Zack shook off his shock and lifted his practice weapon; appropriately weighted for a Second Class SOLDIER, it made the muscles in his arms shift as he held it ready, easy and alert.

"Ready when you are," he said with a disarming smile.

Toriko paused for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. Then she attacked.

Right from the get-go, Sephiroth could see that there were problems. Lord, were there problems. Nearly all of them were with Toriko, who was struggling with the weight of the sword, (inertia was yanking her around, as Zack had predicted) the length of the sword (it kept banging off the floor when she tried to attack from below), and Zack's obviously greater skills. The fight was over in less than ten seconds when Zack neatly flicked the blade out of her hands and sent it—and nearly her, as well—spinning across the practice room. Sephiroth sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Toriko said quietly. Sephiroth dropped his hand and looked at her, not sure who she was talking to.

"Sorry about what?" Zack exclaimed, patting her on the shoulder. "That was great! You're great! There are grown men out there who couldn't last as long as you did."

"But that was _horrible,_" Toriko said, and Sephiroth was surprised to hear that she actually sounded upset. "I can do better than that, and..." She fell silent for a moment, thinking. "I'll just have to adapt."

_"Bravo," _Sephiroth thought even as he realized it was time for another trip to Scarlet. He could see it now. "I need more weapons for Toriko": immediately shield one's ears from piercing laughter.

"You need a smaller, lighter weapon," Zack said. "Weight doesn't really matter in a sword unless you're going to bludgeon something to death." Tapping the practice sword that he now balanced on his shoulder, he said, "Besides, at your age and frame, you shouldn't be getting blade-to-blade with an opponent. All he would have to do to win would be, like, step on you. Shortness is definitely not a plus when you're swordfighting."

Sephiroth leaned against the wall, lacing his hands across his stomach. Perhaps he had chosen better than he had thought, picking Zack for Toriko's first sparring partner. Already Toriko was listening raptly, drinking in every detail of his words.

"You may be able to lift these practice weapons, but that doesn't mean you can use them. For now we're going to stick to the trainee weapons so you can tell how a person's going to think, how they're going to attack." Zack walked over to the bench where the trainee swords lay and replaced them with his Second Class weapon, saying, "And that's what you're really here for, isn't it? Fighting a person's a whole 'nother game from fighting a monster, and I gather you've already had experience fighting those: you live with him, after all," Zack said, jerking his head at Sephiroth.

"Perceptive, aren't you?" Sephiroth said, amused.

Zack waggled his eyebrows outrageously and tapped the side of his head. "I'm psychic," he said proudly. Sephiroth and Toriko snorted over their mental link.

Zack tossed her one of the practice swords and she caught it neatly out of the air, the hilt landing solidly in her hands. The black-haired youth walked back to her and faced her, bringing the slim iron _bokken_ up in both hands.

"Alright," he said. "Let's do this again."

Sephiroth was surprised and pleased to see Toriko smiling. "Yes," she said, also lifting her weapon. "Let's."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

First off, thanks to everyone who dropped a line to show how much they liked Linza's guest chapter. Since it's been received so well, I've sent queries to several other authors to see if they too are interested in contributing to the project. Hopefully we will see more awesomeness in the future.

/\

Okay, Japanese buffs—I know _bokken_ literally means 'wooden sword', but I used the word here in order to describe the shape of the trainee weapons. Everyone knows what a _bokken_ looks like, right? It's basically a wooden katana. I chose this shape because in Last Order (which is SUCH serious sweetness), we see the soldiers chasing after Zack and Catatonia—er, I mean Cloud—wielding katanas as their short-range weapons. It makes sense other army people would know how to use them.

And about the physics and stuff... Can you tell what I think about in my spare time? It's sad. When I daydream, I don't go flying in the clouds eating cotton candy. I come up with Fantasy physics. Lord, I remember spending several _hours_ arguing Fantasy physics with some other fans, arguments I am pleased to say I unanimously won. Some topics of discussion were...

1. Why don't Cloud's arms snap off when he swings that giant sword? Or dislocate, at the very least? (See chapter above for 'density'.)

2. How does Squall's gunblade work? (...Are you serious? Can you not tell? It's a modified bayonet. Oddly enough, this was the topic that took the longest time to explain.)

3. How does Seifer's gunblade work? (The same way as Squall's, he's just holding it ghetto.)

4. How do airships stay up? (On fan belief. If they didn't stay up, they'd just be...ships. That's not exciting at all!)

5. Why do moogles have pompoms? (They are antennae! How else would they know _exactly_ where you are on the World Map in FFIX?)

Most of the time I could give reasonable scientific answers (if not entirely well founded or empirically explained... I'm sure the scientist in my family would give me weird looks if I tried to explain my theories to him), but if all else failed I could just say, "It's magic!" and that won. Totally. :D I have too much fun doing this.

And while Poe of Errant Story maintains that introducing real-world physics into a fantasy story results in the death of catgirls, I'm going to do it anyway. I've never been a fan of sex kittens.

/\

Oh, and there's a reason why I decided to make SOLDIERS heavier. It has to do with Sephiroth and Jenova, actually... Well, mostly Jenova. You saw how small the original body was, the one in the tank, and yet somehow the tentacles turned into those gigantic monsters when it came time to fight? My guess is that the biological matter of Jenova is very heavy and dense, and when a certain signal or neurotransmitter is activated, the alien matter surges out, turning into a new shape with the same mass, but greater volume. It's like when you squeeze a sponge and then suddenly let go—it pops out of whatever shape you had it in. How else can you explain the mysterious gaining of new matter that Jenova's forms seem to undergo?

Anyway, running with this logic, anything thus injected with Jenova cells would start to become dense as well—not as dense as Jenova, but still getting heavy. At Sephiroth's current level of Jenova cells, he's about eighty percent heavier than a regular human his height. Err... Let's say he's around three hundred pounds and twenty pounds or so. Seems like a good number. I could go do some research, but it's late at night now and I'm supposed to be sleeping. :P

/\

By the way, I know Zack's official last name is Fair. However, this is an alternate universe. Therefore, his name is Bing. ZACHARY BING! Live with it :D I've decided that in any alternate universe I write, Zack's name will always be different. Why? Because I started those fics before I had solid information, and I miss when there was only the original FFVII game. Not that the movies are bad or any of the Compilations are bad, but I'm very attached to the original.

/\/\/\/\/\


	101. Chapter 91

Put Your Lights On

8.28.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Ninety-One

/\/\/\/\/\

After Wutai, it was hard for Toriko to settle down. It was not that she was expecting ninjas to come popping out of the boulevards or for people to try killing her father: it was simply that she became more aware of the dangers around her. The Turks, annoying presences that followed her to and from school, suddenly became valuable and necessary. Her combat training, which she'd studied diligently but never with enthusiasm, took on new relevance. Most of all, however, Toriko realized the difference between herself and other children her age. No one in her school had ever been in a life or death situation, and she couldn't think of anyone who could have survived the things she had. Rather than making her feel proud, the events of Wutai made Toriko feel isolated, and she began to withdraw from other children her age. Always aloof at school, she actively began avoiding people, afraid they'd see the frightening strangeness in her that she'd only just become aware of.

But she couldn't avoid Meryl. Ever since the dinner party, the girl had attached herself to Toriko like a second shadow, and while Toriko hadn't minded—in fact, had enjoyed Meryl's company immensely—she now found Meryl's presence irksome and unsettling. Meryl was so irritatingly _normal_: Toriko was jealous of that. She would never have to wield a weapon in self-defense. She would never be in a situation where she could very well die. And even all that aside, surely Meryl saw how different the two of them were. Why did she persist in hanging around?

Two weeks after Wutai, Toriko was sitting on Waverly Academy's roof. It was slate, tilting, and off-limits to students, but Toriko had discovered that her jump limit was about fifty feet, seventy if she got a good running start. At its tallest point, Waverly was only forty feet high. Otherwise the roof was accessible only by custodial key, so it was the perfect place for Toriko to hide. She sat up there, listlessly eating her lunch, and with no real thought, pulled the fingerless glove off her left hand. The double zero tattoos were still there, black as ever: Toriko rubbed them absently, those indelible reminders of how different she really was. No one in Waverly would ever know the horrors of Hojo's lab.

"Ow!"

Toriko frowned. Standing up and sliding her glove back on, she stared as she saw Meryl scaling the nearest tree, whose slender uppermost branches just brushed the slate tiles and most definitely would not support Meryl's weight. The black-haired girl glared up at her, one hand gripping a nearby branch, one leg thrown comically over another. Considering that the Waverly girl's uniform consisted of an oxford blouse and knee-length pencil skirt, Toriko was impressed that Meryl had climbed so high.

"Meryl, get down before you hurt yourself," Toriko said nonetheless, walking to the edge of the roof.

"I could say the same thing," Meryl said, pulling herself up to sit on the branch her leg had been thrown over. She was approximately thirty-five feet up, about five feet below Toriko. Toriko sat down on the edge of the roof, letting her legs hang over. "See?" Meryl said, pointing at her. "You will slide right off and break your legs, young lady."

"I doubt it," Toriko said in all seriousness. "Why are you climbing trees, anyway?"

"To find you," Meryl said, and Toriko blinked. "Why are you avoiding me?" Thrusting her chin out mulishly, the black-haired girl said, "If you want me to go away, you should just say so. Am I annoying or something?"

"No," Toriko said, half-amused and half-ashamed that Meryl was asking these questions. "You're not annoying, Meryl."

"Then why don't you eat lunch with me anymore?" Meryl pressed. "Or want to hang out after school?"

"Father's given me some new training," Toriko said, which was true. After school, she went right over to the Garrison and got her ass handed to her by Zack for at least sixty minutes. Sparring with him was ten times more tiring than fighting with Nanashi; he was stronger, faster, and he trained her mind as well as her body, so Toriko went home exhausted every day. "I'm still getting used to it."

"Bullcrap," Meryl said forcefully.

"Excuse me?"

"I've never seen the results of this training," Meryl said, glaring. "And you suck in P.E."

Toriko sighed. It was true that her grades were low in physical education, but there was a reason for that. "I'm holding back, Meryl."

"Sure."

Toriko looked at Meryl in irritation. The girl was so fixed in her own world: couldn't she understand that some things could be beyond her ken? Standing up, Toriko decided to demonstrate her physical prowess in the most dramatic way she could think of.

Meryl screamed as Toriko let herself tip headfirst off the roof. Toriko was still afraid of heights, but Nanashi had taught her how to deal with them: curling catlike in the air, Toriko let the dizzying sensation of freefall slide over her as she determined the best way to land. Forty feet didn't give her much time to decide, but she needed even less time to react. With a soft thump, Toriko landed easily on the grass some forty feet below, hands and feet touching the earth in the traditional shinobi landing.

"Holy shit!" Meryl screeched, and Toriko stood up, looking skyward as Meryl immediately began to scramble down, her face white with panic. "Tory! **Tory!**"

"I'm fine," Toriko called back, walking under the tree. She hopped a few times for Meryl's benefit. "See?"

"Bullshit!" Meryl shot back. "I've bet you've got a greenstick break or something! Stay right there!"

Toriko sighed, or almost did. Her weary exhalation turned into a sharp hiss as Meryl missed a branch in her hasty descent and slipped, her hands flailing uselessly in the air. Meryl screamed again, but the sound was shriller, a noise made of pure panic.

_"Fuck!"_ Toriko swore in her mind, immediately launching herself into the tree. Meryl was not as strong as she was and definitely not as trained, and even for a skilled warrior, falling out of a tree was dangerous. Distance was not the danger; it was the blunt impact of being bludgeoned against the branches on the way down. Falling out of a tree could break bones, bruise organs, and even kill.

Toriko bounded up the web of tree branches, or tried to. She didn't climb trees often and the thick, leaf-laden boughs made it hard for her to see. So Toriko relied on her hearing and her intuition instead, and she lunged blindly forward when she heard a crashing above her. Her hand grasped something fabric and instantly tightened around it: Toriko snagged another branch with her free hand and hauled the fabric thing up to eye level. It was Meryl's shirt cuff, and below it was Meryl's pale and frightened face.

"Oh my god!" Meryl shrieked, tears spilling out of her eyes. "Oh my god!"

Toriko pulled herself up to the nearest thick branch and sat on it. Pulling Meryl over to her, she hugged her one and only friend as Meryl dissolved into tears of fright and relief, clutching her with surprising strength for one so normal. Toriko breathed deeply and tried to calm her down.

"I almost d-died!" Meryl sobbed, her tears soaking into Toriko's shirt.

"But you didn't," Toriko said comfortingly, though her heart was still racing. "I caught you. And I'll always catch you, Meryl. Don't cry. You're alright."

Meryl cried anyway. Toriko let her wail, and petted her hair and made soothing noises and platitudes. They were mindless activities that made Meryl feel better and more importantly gave Toriko time to think. For once, her strength had not been used for hurting or just for herself. It made Toriko feel warmer, more at ease. Maybe being different wasn't so bad.

A teacher came to investigate the screaming and the crying, and found the two of them sitting some twenty-five feet up in the tallest tree on campus. The scolding they got from the administration was nothing compared to the ranting of Mrs. Tuesti when she came to get Meryl, who had to go home early because of 'emotional distress'. Toriko listened blandly as Naomi waxed eloquent about the dangers of high places, bad decisions, and of course "what-on-earth-possessed-you-to-do-something-so-stupid": she heard the words, but didn't care. If she hadn't been there, Meryl would have been seriously injured.

_"Of course, if I hadn't been on the roof in the first place, Meryl wouldn't have been climbing that tree..."_

Toriko's calmness about the entire situation made the school authorities think she was emotionally distressed too, and so Sephiroth took off early to come get her from school. He would have sent a Turk, but they were doing something AVALANCHE-related and he wanted to get out of the Building. As he strode in to Waverly's office, everyone held their breath. Toriko, sitting demurely in the waiting area, looked up at him evenly as he approached. She already knew he wasn't mad—no damage had been done and she'd handled the situation quite well—so the paternal reaming that the teachers and secretaries were no doubt waiting for would never come.

"They tell me you were twenty-five feet up in a tree?" was the first thing he said to her when he stopped in front of her, folding his arms.

"Approximately," Toriko said.

"Any particular reason?"

"I wanted to go on the roof."

Sephiroth's mouth quirked. He understood the need for escape. "It didn't occur to you that you could have been hurt?"

At once Toriko realized they were putting on a show, just like they always did whenever people saw them. For a moment she debated being the contrite perfect daughter or the weirdly calm, sociopathic loony she was starting to be known as at school. She decided to go with the latter: it was not a day to be normal.

"Well, it did," Toriko said. "But I was pretty sure it wouldn't happen."

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because I'm _your_ child, Father."

Sephiroth pressed his lips together, his eyes glittering like gemstones: it was his way of smiling without smiling, though to the layman it looked like displeasure. He ran a presumably exasperated hand over his mouth.

"Come on," he said. "We're going home. We'll talk more about this in the car."

"Yes, Father," Toriko said, standing up and picking up her school bag. She walked out behind him, aware of the fiery curiosity behind her: everyone was wondering why Sephiroth wasn't flipping out more. On their way out of school, her classmates noticed her erect posture and composed face: it wasn't the look of someone who'd just had their head chewed off. Luckily, Sephiroth's appearance as a school dad was so off-putting that even the most rabid of his teenage fangirls at Waverly decided to hang back.

His car was parked right outside the gate, and as soon as the two of them were safely inside, Sephiroth turned to look at her with amusement coloring his face.

"Tell me," he said not unkindly. "Do you try to be a freak at school, or is this just your natural disposition?"

"It's my natural disposition," Toriko said, blinking. "And what do you mean, a freak?"

"You're much too calm for a child your age. And why were you climbing trees that high in the first place?"

"I _was_ on the roof," Toriko said, "but then Meryl climbed up the tree, and then she fell. Since she was thirty-five feet up, I knew she'd get hurt, so I took steps to prevent that."

Her response made Sephiroth react strangely. His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned: unlike his earlier expression, this was a definite moue of displeasure. Toriko leaned away slightly, sensing his discontent like storm clouds on the horizon.

"Am I not allowed to protect my friends?" She asked, equal parts defiant and impudent.

"You're suffering something that new SOLDIERS often have," Sephiroth said. "We call it 'Hero' or 'Dipshit Syndrome'."

"I'm not going to run around saving everything, if that's what you're implying."

"Good, because it's not your job." Sephiroth put on his seatbelt and put the key in the ignition, turning the car on with a rumble. "You have more important things to worry about."

Since having his first car sabotaged, Sephiroth's new vehicle was considerably more secure: namely, it had less than ten seams, so one couldn't even pop the hood to look at the engine. The result was something like a sleek tank shaped like a stock car, though the interior was still comfortably furnished. Toriko ran her fingertip along the heavily tinted bulletproof windows, mulling over the necessity of such strength: mere bullets couldn't hurt her father, but he wouldn't need a car like this unless someone had tried.

_"And they could hurt me too..."_ Toriko realized, not for the first time. _"My strength can be used for protection, but it should be _my _protection first and foremost..."_

"So you've got half the day off," Sephiroth said as they started to drive. He still handled vehicles like a maniac: however, Toriko was now accustomed to his wild driving, as well as the fact that he'd yet to cause a serious accident. "What are you planning to do?"

"Homework," Toriko said. "And some shooting. I haven't done that in a while and I'm afraid I'll forget how to aim."

Sephiroth grunted. "Guns are like bicycles. Don't worry about them."

"Not everything is going to have a laser sight."

"Toriko, our arms don't shake and our eyesight is equally balanced in both eyes. We don't need to practice with guns."

Toriko hunkered into her seat. "Well, I find it relaxing."

Sephiroth glanced at her. "You feel in much need of relaxation these days?"

"No... Well, yes. A little." Toriko shifted uncomfortably. "Wutai shook me."

Sephiroth nodded in understanding. "Your first near-death experience will do that."

"It's not only that..." Toriko said, half-closing her eyes.

Sephiroth was quiet. _"Seeing your mother again?"_

_"I always knew she hated you," _Toriko thought back, gazing out of the window. _"I just... I wasn't prepared to see it in person. I should have expected it, and yet it still hurt..."_

_"Why?" _Sephiroth's thought was quiet, very even.

Toriko sighed. _"I don't know... I don't think I was stupid enough to harbor some foolish desire of the two of you actually liking each other... Of having a normal life."_

_"You seem to have an obsession with normal,"_ Sephiroth thought at her, slightly annoyed. _"The sooner you get used to the fact you aren't, the easier your life becomes. And normal has its own set of problems too: in fact, we're lucky."_ Sephiroth smirked. _"Most of our problems can be solved with intimidation, money, or physical violence."_

Toriko sighed. It was true, unfortunately. She was a member of the Shin-Ra family and the daughter of the most famous swordsman in the world: there was no problem in her life right now that couldn't be swept away with a wad of cash or a blade to the face. Well... There was one.

_"Speaking about not being normal, do I have to visit Hojo again?" _

Sephiroth didn't say or think anything at her for a long time. However, she could feel the sudden disquiet in him, the surprising flare of protective anger and the undercurrent of cold reasoning.

_"You don't seem to have any health problems," _he thought at her at last. _"So I'd rather keep you away. Why do you ask about Hojo anyway?"_

Toriko rubbed her left hand. _"I was looking at my tattoo today..."_

_"What for?"_

_"Just reminding myself that I'm not normal."_

_"..."_

It was a short ride from Waverly to their apartment building, and from there an even shorter walk up the stairs to their tenth-story apartment. Once inside, Toriko changed out of her school uniform and into comfier, more utilitarian clothes. When she came out of her room, Sephiroth was gone. A brief brush with his mind told her that he was going back to work: he had little to do at the office, but even less to do at home, and Sephiroth was not the kind of person who was comfortable being idle.

Toriko, however, didn't mind downtime. Upon discovering Sephiroth gone, Toriko sat on the couch and pulled off her left glove again. The blocked double zeroes stared back at her, like a pair of eyes... Bespectacled eyes. Toriko traced her tattoos with her free hand, letting her mind wander.

She had hated her time in the lab for many reasons. Pain was the first on her list: she'd been poked, prodded, injected, watched but ignored, and being deprived of even her mother's dubious affection had made her wretched and low. Boredom was the next biggest reason, because between treatments and observations, Toriko was left alone in her cell, with nothing but sterile white surrounding her. During those times, Toriko lay flat on the floor and stared up at the ceiling, letting her mind wander—her imagination, her memories, were the only refuge she had from her newfound hell. And then there were clinically sadistic scientists, cruelly ambitious monsters that dared to wear human shapes, and of course there was the agony caused by the treatments themselves... Her strange injections had burned, but the times she'd been shut in Mako-filled tubes had been much, much worse. Toriko would never tell her father that she'd tried to strangle herself with the observational wires needled into her skin.

Surprisingly, Hojo was only in the middle of her list of reasons to fear the lab. He was the head scientist, but had left most of the painful experimentation and data logging to his junior associates. When he'd actually interacted with her, Hojo had given her textbooks, lectures on genetics, and music lessons to stimulate her mind. He'd been very interested in her intellectual development, and as a result, his tests had been surprisingly...pleasant. Toriko found herself shockingly nostalgic of the times when Hojo had paced around her as she'd done some math, and sharply though thoroughly correct her work. Or when she'd be playing chess, and he'd show her a better move: Hojo was a killer player at strategy games. Toriko closed her eyes and remembered when she'd been tested on her fine motor skills with the violin, and had actually seen Hojo absently waving his fingers in time to the music, much like a conductor in front of an invisible orchestra. That was one very strange, very peculiar man.

Toriko quietly shelved those memories and locked them where Sephiroth would not find them, hiding them deep in the rape memories given to her by her mother. Sephiroth's hatred for Hojo made Seishi's abhorrence of him look like a tack next to a steel pylon. Back when he'd still been in the lab, Hojo's staff on the Genesis Project had been much smaller, and so Hojo had done nearly everything on Sephiroth himself: the injections, the observations, the mental training, and—in those days before CAT scans and other internal imaging solutions—extensive surgeries. Hojo had raped him in all but the sexual sense of the word and Sephiroth would hate him until the day he died: knowing Toriko did not feel the same would make him explode into violent fits of rage.

And besides, it was better that Toriko forget Hojo's incidental kindnesses, his accidental saving of her mind. He hadn't done it out of the goodness of whatever heart he still possessed: it was just that he had lackeys to do the bad things to her now, and better technology so not as many bad things had to be done to her in the first place. Still, Toriko couldn't quite make herself hate Hojo. She didn't like him, certainly—he was the ultimate force behind all her suffering and he was just a rat bastard to begin with—but she couldn't make herself want to kill him. After all, he hadn't done her the disservice of making her a freak. That had been in her blood since conception.

_Freak._ That was what she was. Too strong, too smart, too calm, too... Too everything. Toriko slid her glove back on and shut her eyes, wishing her worries and insecurities and newfound anxieties would just go away. The insubstantial was so hard to get rid of...

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

This is a rambling kind of chapter. You probably figured that out already. Yeah... I figured I should go a little more into Toriko's psyche, probably because it's easy to write. Everyone else is not cooperating with me at the moment. They'll probably be nicer once I start the next (and final) arc. My goal is to have this done BEFORE 150 chapters. I swear, it's just starting to get silly... And where's this sort of dedication on an original story, eh? Sheez.

--

Some of you sharp-eyed people may have noticed that I changed the name of Sephiroth's project: it's because of DoC and some thinking. 'Advent' seems to imply that something's risen already, and as far as anyone knows, Jenova's a surprisingly well-preserved corpse; we call the rising of such a thing a resurrection, or "AHHH! It's a zombie!" "Genesis Project", the official name for the whole Sephiroth shebang, makes a lot more sense, so I'm going back into the drafts and changing all the "Project Advent"s to "Project Genesis/Genesis Project", and "Second Advent"s to "Neo-Genesis". It's a nice little opportunity for me to clean up some details too, so if you've noticed something wonky—a typo, a misplaced detail or name—this is the time to tell me. Drop me a review with whatever strangeness you notice, it'll be much appreciated.

/\/\/\/\/\


	102. Chapter 92

Put Your Lights On

9.10.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Ninety-Two

/\/\/\/\/\

"I won't mince words, ladies and gentlemen. Our situation is dire. AVALANCHE's forces are on the rise..."

Rude leaned into Tseng's office. The half-Wutaiese man was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, muttering to himself as he pored over a mishmash of notes, half-scribbled speeches, and various reports on AVALANCHE. Rude coughed to announce himself and Tseng looked up, his hair frazzled and his eyes distracted.

"Yes, Rude?" Tseng asked, sitting up.

"The new hires are in the conference room," Rude said. "Are you ready?"

Tseng looked at the mess on his desk and sighed, rising to his feet. "I suppose. I hate speaking before a group."

"It'll come to you," Rude said as Tseng retied his hair, raking it into place with a much-practiced sweep of his hand. As Tseng fixed his 'do, Rude looked again at the papers sprawled messily on the table: compulsively he strode into the office and began straightening them, sorting them into piles with a practiced eye and lightning speed. Tseng watched him, amused.

"My apartment would drive you crazy," he commented wryly.

"It might," Rude said, straightening the reports on AVALANCHE: half were his, half were Reno's. He paused for a moment, all the information that he and his red-haired colleague had gathered over the couple of months flickering through his mind.

Following the assassination attempts at the Blue Lotus six months ago, the Turks had opened an investigation to determine the exact parties behind the incident. Much to their surprise, they'd found that while Tarama no Suzu and the kunoichi Tsuka had planned and executed the main plan, the funding for weapons and such had come from a third party. The drug used to knock out Sephiroth, especially, was not homegrown. Analysis from the nearest Shin-Ra lab showed it to be a top-secret compound actually used for the specific purpose of sedating high-level SOLDIERs, though frankly there was only one man who could withstand that powerful combination of Mako and chemicals and not die. This evidence seemed to point to a leak in the Military Science departments, or more likely, at stolen data. A few months prior, AVALANCHE had hacked into the Shin-Ra Science Department's database and made off with quite a bit of SOLDIER data before anyone had realized what was going on. Among the stolen files were instructions on how to make knockout drugs for berserk or otherwise uncontrollable SOLDIERS.

_"For Sephiroth, they just made everything more concentrated..."_

With AVALANCHE now the main suspect, Rude and Reno had concentrated their efforts on the rebel group and had been quite disturbed by their findings. AVALANCHE was much larger and more sophisticated than they'd ever imagined, as proven by the discovery of several high-tech, armored facilities, all of which were amply staffed with competent fighters. This development had led to a swell in the number of Turks in the Investigative Department, though the increase in ranks was superficial: Rude privately doubted more than one or two would remain on the job after seeing what was required. Being a Turk meant one had to have a rare combination of skill, strength, intelligence, and straight-up ruthlessness, and nearly all the new hires were missing one or more of these essential elements.

"We're waaaaaaaaiting," sang out a familiar youthful tone, and Rude and Tseng turned to see Reno hanging in the doorway. Despite it being the first day he was meeting the new hires, he was dressed as sloppily as ever. Out of the corner of his eye, Rude could see Tseng frowning. "Boss man, Rude, are you coming?"

"In a moment," Tseng said, fixing his tie. "How are the hires?"

"Bored," Reno said. "They've started playing Hangman on the whiteboard in the conference room."

Tseng groaned and shook his head. Rude followed after him as he strode to the door, muttering something probably uncomplimentary in Wutaiese. Reno fell in step beside him, and the two Aces followed their boss as he went to down to the 66th floor conference room, where all the new (and most likely temporary) Turks were waiting.

Everyone was sitting when Tseng entered the room, but Rude could see the Hangman schematic still up on the wall. Nearly complete, it bore the phrase "our other is a hore," and Rude wasn't sure whether to sigh or burst out laughing. Tseng just stared at the whiteboard for a moment before striding over to it and wiping it clean. None of the new hires cracked a smile or even snickered, though Reno was grinning broadly.

"Good morning," Tseng said briskly, turning around as if nothing had happened. "I'm Tseng, the head of the Investigative Division of Peace Enforcement, also known as the Turks. Congratulations; you've passed our tests and made it through training. Now the real work begins."

Tseng immediately sketched out the situation with AVALANCHE, using a combination of broad strokes and pertinent details that gave the new hires a clear picture in a very short amount of time: looking at him, Rude never would have realized that Tseng hated talking before a group. It would have been interesting if Rude didn't already know the information better than his home phone number, but over the course of the briefing, Tseng added a few details that Rude hadn't heard before.

"For a couple years we've been getting reports of divided leadership within the group," Tseng said. "And about a week ago, we received word that AVALANCHE has now split into two discrete factions." Rude glanced at Reno, who didn't look surprised; it must have been his find. "AVALANCHE-Alpha is led by a man named Shears, and he's strictly anti-Company. The graffiti you see in the streets, the kidnapping and assassination of executives, and anti-Shin-Ra propaganda is all his doing. This is the larger group, and they have nearly all the guns.

"However, AVALANCHE-Beta is more intelligent, and by far and away the more dangerous of the two. They adhere strongly to AVALANCHE's original tenets of 'protecting the Planet', which they take to mean collapsing mines, detonating Mako reactors, and even attacking SOLDIERS, whom they deem as freaks. You may recall the bombing of the Midgar Garrison approximately a year ago: that was their doing." Tseng paused for a moment to let the impact of his words sink in. He did that from time to time, and Rude thought it was reasonably effective. "Their leader is a man named Fuhito."

_"That goddamn mini-Hojo..." _Rude thought with a mental glare._ "He gave the Wutaiese insurgents the knockout drug for Sephiroth and probably a hefty portion of their funding."_

"Half of you will concentrate on bringing down AVALANCHE-Alpha," Tseng said, looking around the table. "And you'll be under Rude's command when you're out in the field."

_"Damn," _Rude thought with a grimace as everyone in the room glanced back at him, their eyes varying degrees of critical, expectant, and wondering. He'd known this was coming, but he still hadn't been prepared. _"I hate commanding people."_

"The other half will work on AVALANCHE-Beta," Tseng continued. "And you'll be taking orders from Reno."

"Yo," Reno said, grinning broadly. Rude breathed a mental sigh of relief when the focus shifted to him.

"We'll what now?" One of the new hires, a man who looked to be roughly Rude's age, exclaimed. "He's just a kid!"

"I'll 'just-a-kid' you," Reno said incomprehensibly, though the threat was unmistakable.

"The 'kid'," Tseng said, ignoring Reno's outburst. "Has been with us since he's been seventeen years old, and he was an Ace nearly the whole time. You will defer to his experience."

_"Interesting how he doesn't say Reno's only nineteen years old," _Rude thought with a mental smirk. _"Though two years in the Turks without serious injury or visits to the shrink is nothing to sneeze at."_

Tseng assigned them each four newbies: Rude was glad to see that the ones under his command were the ones who were most likely to work well alone, which would mean minimum interference from him. Reno's bunch was the kind that would work well together. Already Rude could see them drifting into partner pairs, which was good: AVALANCHE-Beta was going to be a tough nut to crack, and two Turks would be better than one. Not that AVALANCHE-Alpha was going to be a walk in the park, but it would not require concerted combat efforts. The plan to take down AVALANCHE-Alpha consisted mostly of "whack Shears and the other high-ranking terrorists, and the organization will fall apart". Quick assassinations would be the key, though the sheer number of people on AVALANCHE-Alpha's side would probably spell large battles.

"_Well, that was what turret guns and grenades are for."_

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked at his new hires. "Shears is in Junon," he said without preamble. "So are most of his lieutenants." Pulling a thick manila folder from the inside of his jacket, he said, "I want these forty-four people dead in two days, according to the schedule I've got drawn up in here. You guys up to it?"

"Lay it on us," one of the new hires said, folding his arms.

Rude nodded and sat down at the conference table, his new hires spreading out around him. It was good to work with professionals.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I drew art for Linza! Check it out below (mind the space between deviantart and com).

http/www.deviantart. com/deviation/39523780.

Also check out my Scraps section to find Reno on acid, Turks on a plane, and a vision from the future.

/\

I'm just messing around with the entire Final Fantasy VII universe, aren't I? Look at our BC Turks making an appearance. In case you want to know, this is the breakdown...

Reno:

Rod (male: the Reno lookalike)

Shotgun (female: sandy blonde ponytail)

Shuriken (female: red-brown hair)

Fists (male: the burly one)

Rude:

Gun (female: the Elena lookalike and in fact, her older sister)

Two Guns (male: the one with cornrows)

Martial Arts (female: black hair, professional mercenary)

Sword (male: he appears to be wearing glasses)

Some of you BC fans may be wondering where Elfé is. Well, fact of the matter is that she's in Kalm, growing up normally with her parents. Why? Well, because this is an alternate universe and I don't want Veld (who I didn't even know existed before I started typing this fic) to go on thinking he accidentally killed his family. That just sucks. Besides, the less complicated the better.

/\/\/\/\/\


	103. Chapter 93

Put Your Lights On

8.29.06

.l.l.l.

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

.l.l.l.

Chapter Ninety-Three

.l.l.l.

Sephiroth had never been particularly aware of the passage of time. His looks didn't change much and neither did those of his coworkers, and the city of Midgar did not really age: it got bigger, shinier, and louder, but there was no regular scale to it. Things came and went, but in the way of a river: the water was never the same twice, but it looked that way and thus gave the impression of being unchanging.

But things were different now that he had a child. Sephiroth blinked, and all of a sudden he could see the days and weeks sliding by in the length of Toriko's hair, in her increasing height, in her growing confidence and personality. Even though he saw the changes happening, Sephiroth was still surprised by them: for the first time in his life he wondered how time had managed to pass so quickly.

He was struck by this reality one autumn day, two years after he'd engineered Toriko's escape from the laboratory. The two of them were taking a walk through Midgar Park, down a picturesque avenue colored brilliantly with dark, bare trees, leaves the color of flame, and asphalt made dark by a brief, unseasonal rain. The weather was turning cold, and Toriko was wearing an Elaine creation, a long dark coat that went to her knees and was edged luxuriously in faux fur and lace. Sephiroth was in a long wool duster, the cold-weather version of his leather coat, and his hair was pulled back in a low ponytail as a concession to the brisk autumn breezes.

One such gust shook the trees before them, sending a flurry of red and orange leaves into the air. Absently, Toriko reached out and began plucking leaves out of the air: it was a variant on a ninja exercise that Nanashi, still in Wutai, had shown her. Sephiroth watched her catch falling foliage, noting with pleasure that not a single leaf escaped the sweep of her fingers, and how she made a surprisingly difficult task look so easy.

But for the first time he noticed how long her limbs were becoming, how her face was losing its childhood roundness to give way to a definitely more Continental angularity. The slant in her Wutaiese eyes was more pronounced than he remembered, with their olivine hue deepening to the complexity of green amber. Her fingers were slender, almost dancing through the air as she plucked leaf after leaf with effortless grace. Her hair, now brushing her shoulders, gleamed as brightly as polished jet. Sephiroth paused, realizing that little Tori was inevitably growing up.

It filled him with mixed emotions. There was pride, that this lovely young lady was of his blood, a credit to his name and a comfort to his heart. There was consternation, that she was passing out of childhood so quickly. And also, undeniably, there was fear. Sephiroth frowned, wondering when Hojo would realize that Toriko was not going to be a girl for much longer.

"_He's going to want to harvest her eggs... And my sperm."_

His long exhalation, a hiss of irritation and disquiet, made Toriko look at him. Still with the leaves in her hand, she turned to face him and asked, "Is something wrong, Father?"

"No," he said. He knew it was stupid, sticking his head in the sand about an issue like this, but it was a very disturbing one. He could duck the subject for a few more days... Or at least until Toriko's first period. He was pretty sure she hadn't had one yet, but then again how could he tell? The idea of outright asking made Sephiroth squirm.

"How's your training going?" He asked instead, looking down at her.

"It's good," she said, smiling. As an unexpected flush of warmth colored her thoughts, Sephiroth became aware of yet another indication of his daughter's impending maturity, and he resisted the urge to smirk as he imagined Zack's reaction if he ever discovered Toriko's growing crush on him. "I'm learning a lot," she said, her voice cheerful but neutral.

"That's wonderful," Sephiroth said in the same tone, smiling. "I'm glad Zack's a good teacher."

"He's very patient," Toriko said earnestly. "And very thorough. And he's never boring, either." She paused, and added, "Other members of the Seventh are sparring with me too."

"Really?" Sephiroth was very surprised. "Which ones?"

"Captain Dulles," she said.

"Dulles?" Sephiroth repeated.

Toriko nodded. "I was sparring against Zack with two practice swords, and the captain happened to be watching us. He then offered to spar against me..."

"And you accepted?" Sephiroth asked, worried. Dulles's offer was generous, but perhaps misplaced: the man used swords almost as big as he was, and his strength was more on par with the First Class level despite his Second Class status. That was the primary reason Sephiroth chose to spar with him on a regular basis, and the reason Dulles had never been promoted to First; his projected strength would be off the charts.

Toriko nodded. "It was nice to have a different opponent," she said. "I'm sort of used to Zack."

After a year and a half of the black-haired youth's instruction, Sephiroth certainly hoped she'd learned to read him by now. But Dulles... "Did he hurt you?"

"Not intentionally," Toriko said, making alarm bells go off in Sephiroth's mind. Blithely she went on, saying, "He bonked me on the head by accident—his swords have great reach and they're rather heavy. He didn't swing hard, but gravity increased the impact."

"When did this happen?" Sephiroth asked. He resisted the urge to check her head for a bump.

"About a month ago," Toriko said, shrugging.

"And you didn't tell me?"

"It was an accident," she said mildly. "And I wasn't bleeding or concussed, so I thought it was best not to bother you."

"Not to bother..." Sephiroth shook his head. "Tori, _tell_ me these things. I like to be informed."

"Alright, Father," Toriko said, sounding amused. Sephiroth, on the other hand, was feeling miffed. Just because they were mentally close didn't mean they shared all their secrets and everyday doings; it was an unspoken agreement that they'd only disclose as much about their activities as they wanted to. Yet the idea of Toriko withholding information from him made Sephiroth uncomfortable. What other potentially things could she be hiding?

"So are there any boys interested in you?"

Toriko blinked, and to Sephiroth's surprise began turning red. Laughing nervously, she said, "There are a few."

Sephiroth's brows rose. "A _few?_ Why wasn't I informed?"

"They like me for my status," she said, looking up at him and smiling ruefully. "And I find them beneath my notice. Surely they'd be beneath yours."

"What are their names?"

Toriko's brows rose slightly. "They're just silly boys, Father. I can handle them." In a slightly more pointed voice, she asked, "Or is all my training for naught?"

"You can't beat up your classmates every time you have a problem," Sephiroth said.

"Yes I can," she said with deliberate cheekiness. "I'm a Shin-Ra. We can get away with anything."

"Tori—"

"I know what you're trying to say, Father," Toriko said with almost irritating confidence. "But rest assured, I have training in verbal defense as well. Mother was quite thorough in that area, and I know how to deflect even the most idiotically ardent of advances with a few words and a look."

Sephiroth opened his mouth to say something, but his mind was drawing a blank. As he shut his mouth and hunkered into his high-collared duster, he brooded over what was promising to be a very trying time in his life. Toriko was a sweet-mannered girl, but she was also very intelligent and undoubtedly she'd fall into the teenage trap, one that Sephiroth remembered quite well: it was the "I know better than you" deadfall, and there wasn't a person alive who hadn't stumbled into it.

"_Good Lord, she _is _a teenager now, isn't she?"_

Nightmarish visions of idiotic peer-related hijinks and overblown adolescent drama flitted through Sephiroth's head. Toriko looked up at him, her expression a mixture of amusement and injury.

"_Do you really think I'm that stupid, Father?"_ She asked mildly.

"_It's not so much 'stupid' as 'inexperienced...'"_ Sephiroth mulled. _"Your emotions go haywire during this particular time in your life."_

"_Father, I try not to have emotions,"_ Toriko thought back, half-amused and half-serious. _"Not ones that interfere with my judgment, anyway. A part of me is always detached."_

"_That's good, but adolescence is a time of idiocy."_

Toriko narrowed her eyes, physically and mentally radiating annoyance. _"You're _expecting _me to do stupid things, aren't you?" _She thought accusingly.

"_Everyone does stupid things,"_ Sephiroth thought back. He was surprised at her irritation; he was only speaking the truth. _"It's foolish to expect that you won't."_

Toriko bristled, but her ire died as quickly as a spark on asphalt as she apparently saw the wisdom behind his words. _"I won't do _many _stupid things,"_ she thought at him instead.

"_How do you know?"_ Sephiroth thought back at her. _"You can't tell without experience."_

Toriko's exasperation washed over him, igniting the smoldering irritation that had been burning in his chest ever since this particular conversation had begun. _"What do you want me to do, Father? Run everything by you before I do it?"_

Sephiroth recognized the trap, but could not quite avoid it. After all, he was her father, damn it, and that meant saying some uncomfortable things. _"I would prefer that you kept me informed about the events in your life," _he thought icily.

"_What _events?" Toriko demanded, well and irritated now. _"There have been no _events _since Wutai! I've gone to school and training, that's it. That's all I thought you wanted to know, not all the little details that go into these mundane things."_

A part of Sephiroth was dismayed. They were fighting. They were actually fighting, and he didn't know how they'd gotten there or how to stop it. But the larger part of him was rolling belligerently along, snapping in a mental shout, _"I'll decide what I want to know, young lady!"_

"_Fine,"_ she shot back, and she slid her hand out of his, sticking it in her own coat pocket. The loss of physical contact hurt obscurely, but Sephiroth refused to let her know that. _"When you figure it out, tell me."_

It would make no sense for him to suddenly slap her of the blue, since their argument had been purely mental: to any casual passersby or paparazzi, it would look like some sort of compulsive smacking disease. Still, the temptation was there, to physically intimidate Toriko into obedience. It would be so easy...

"_Though she's not exactly being disobedient..." _Sephiroth realized with a grumble. _"She's just... Not as dependent on me as she used to be. In three years, she's going to be a legal adult, and she might end up leaving me... I don't know how she'd make her living, but the option would be open to her."_

Sephiroth exhaled gustily and looked up at the sky. It was cloudy and looked rain-laden; they were in for another unseasonal storm. Looking at Toriko, he said, "It looks like rain. Let's go home."

"As you wish, Father," Toriko said in her falsely sweet voice. Sephiroth suppressed the swell of irritation that made his hands twitch with the urge for violence.

"Do you want to stay in the park longer?" He asked. He meant for the question to be polite and evenhanded, but his ire colored it nasty: Toriko took his query as a definite statement of displeasure.

"Not if you don't want to," she said, still sickly sweet.

Sephiroth stopped walking and turned to look at her for a long moment, clenching and unclenching his hands inside his pockets. He knew there were a couple of things he could say that would dissolve the tension between them, but the problem was that he wouldn't mean any of them, and Toriko would pick up on that. She was very much a girl, so empty placations would not smooth her feathers. Sephiroth had to think hard to come up with something sincere that would make Toriko stop being impudent and insulting in her irritating, sugarcoated way. In the meantime, Toriko looked up at him and smiled with eyes that were hot and hard with resentment.

"You make the decision, Toriko," Sephiroth said, this time carefully monitoring his tone. Toriko studied him for a while, and Sephiroth could feel her probing his thoughts. He let her poke around in his head, letting her realize that her behavior irritated him for very legitimate reasons. Surreptitiously he poked back and mentally smiled in triumph as she shamefacedly began to understand his motivations.

"Let's go home then, Father," Toriko said in a soft, contrite tone of voice, and Sephiroth smiled.

"Alright," he said. Inwardly he rejoiced. No matter how old Toriko would become, he was still her father and she would always listen to him... Though whether she would obey was another matter entirely. She was growing up, after all, and would be a combination of his stubbornness and her mother's deviousness: no doubt the two of them would butt heads again. Sephiroth decided to enjoy Toriko's acquiescence while he could. "Home it is, then."

.l.l.l.

**Author's note:**

Just in case it hasn't been obvious, I've been skipping chunks of time since Wutai. The Turk chapter takes place about six or seven months after that time and this one takes place six or seven months after THAT, so you see how it goes...

I wrote this chapter to show the passage of time, and how Toriko's actually starting to get a backbone now. Thirteen seems an appropriate age for the growing of such things, and something needs to make Sephiroth's life more interesting. To those who find the action more stimulating, fear not. AVALANCHE isn't done rearing its ugly head yet. We'll have more guts and violence and angst in the chapters to come.

I just realized it's been a year since I started PYLO. A whole year, down the friggin' day! Shit. I can't believe anyone's still reading this...

.l.l.l.


	104. Chapter 94

Put Your Lights On

9.19.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Ninety-Four

/\/\/\/\/\

"Give it up, Zack," Dulles said, leaping lightly backwards. Mere hairs before him, Zack swung his Buster Sword in a wide, ineffectual arc, grunting with the effort. It was not a warm day, but sweat was already slick on the younger man's forehead, and he had stripped off his shirt a few minutes before. Dulles, on the other hand, looked as cool as meltwater. "You don't have enough experience to fight me."

"But I want the experience," Zack said. He was grinning. Combat made Zack's body sing with the joy of movement, the pleasure of exertion. Sparring was his favorite thing in the world. "Besides, Cappy, you know I'm teaching the General's daughter."

"Nice of you to do that," Dulles said, again leaping away as Zack swung at him. His massive double swords rested easily on his broad shoulders, the blades glinting in the high afternoon light. Both of them were using live steel. "What's it been now, a year?"

"A little bit over a year and half," Zack said, swinging his sword up to his shoulder. "She's good, a real quick learner. Definitely got her daddy's genes. And she's freakishly strong."

"Oh?"

"I mean it. I mean, she hit me the other day and it _hurt!_" Zack swung his sword and Dulles, almost lazily, flicked one of his blades off his shoulders to parry the blow. Zack grinned; if he was getting close enough for Dulles to have to parry instead of evade, then he was making progress. "But there's something else too," Zack said, ducking as Dulles swept his other sword over his head.

"Dulles," called a familiar voice from the edge of the courtyard. Sephiroth, there for his usual session with Dulles, was sitting on a bench, the Masamune held idly in one hand. "Don't kill him."

"Yes, sir!" Dulles called back, taking a step forward and shoving Zack back a pace. As Zack stumbled, Dulles lunged, forcing the younger man to twist acrobatically to avoid an impaling. "Now what's this other reason?"

"Well, you know the little missy likes to use double swords," Zack said, somersaulting away. The Buster Sword scraped sparks against the ground as he vaulted back to his feet, bringing the massive blade up with him. "And the last couple of times we were fighting, she was kicking my ass. It was parry-poke, parry-poke the entire time." As Dulles's face twitched, a sure sign he was trying not to laugh, Zack sheepishly added, "And, well, I don't want that to happen again. I mean, I'm supposed to be teaching her, and getting kicked around is a little embarrassing."

"Well, she _is_ the General's child," Dulles said, raising his swords out to the sides. It was an impressive feat of strength, even for a Second-Class SOLDIER, considering each sword was probably fifty to a hundred pounds alone. Zack tensed, recognizing the stance; Dulles was about to get serious. "You can't say you didn't see it coming."

"But she's only thirteen years old!" Zack protested, and yelped as Dulles rushed forward. He twisted aside as Dulles's fifty-pound swords slammed into the ground on either side of him, cracking the pavement.

"Shit," Dulles swore, lifting his blades. Looking over his shoulder, he called at Sephiroth, "Can you pretend you didn't see that, sir?"

"What pretend?" Sephiroth called back, sounding amused. "I blinked, and all of a sudden there were cracks in the courtyard. It's not going to come out of your pay."

Zack grinned. Sephiroth was one scary SOB even to the seasoned veterans of the army, but around the Seventh he relaxed almost enough to be normal. Though his rank made it impossible to truly treat him like one of the guys, times like now made it seem like it wasn't a bad idea.

"I bet she gets training at home," Dulles said, making Zack look back at him. "The General probably spars with her."

"He's afraid of breaking something," Zack said. He cursed when Dulles swung at him twice, first with the left and then with the right, coming low to strike up at his face. Zack blocked the first with a furious, instinctual swing, and he felt the second strike bang off his blade, making his bones ache with the impact—

_"Fuck, something's wrong—"_

And all of a sudden there was a shunking noise. Zack dropped to his knees. He hadn't planned to, but a sudden driving pressure in his shoulder had forced him down, and he turned to look at what had happened.

"Oh, FUCK!" Dulles gasped, and Zack heard something clanging. There should have been two clangs, but one of the clang-causers was in his shoulder, cutting through muscle and bone and oh look, it was sticking out of his breastbone, slightly tilted from the way it had bashed off his Buster Sword. Zack stared, shocked and mildly disturbed, as blood gushed out of the monstrous wound. It cascaded. It roared. Zack was fascinated by the way it spilled over his chest and down his back, soaking his right side in sanguine salt and pooling over the ground in...in...

_"Whoo, I'm feeling dizzy..."_

Zack started swaying, but the sword that was in his shoulder, now resting on the ground, was propping him upright. Dimly he became aware of people shouting, of lots of feet running over the ground. He supposed people were going for medics, but that wasn't going to do them—to do him—much good. The Garrison didn't have the surgical facilities or materia stores to deal with such a serious injury. Fuck, they didn't even have anything mastered.

"Zack! Zack!" Dulles knelt in front of him, shouting. "Zack, keep your eyes open! Don't fall asleep!"

Well, duh. He knew that. If he closed his eyes, he'd probably pass out, and if he passed out he'd die. Zack stared fixedly at the growing pool of blood on the ground, concentrating on it with all his might. That was his life on the ground there, spilling into the cracked cement and soaking into the earth. It was seeping away from him and Zack tried to reach out with his uninjured arm, tried to take it back. But his body wouldn't move. It made him angry, even through the dimness that was clouding his eyes, fogging his mind. He wasn't going to die this easily, was he? Not in a sparring accident. Not like this.

_"I didn't join SOLDIER for this."_

A weight began to settle on him, something like a cotton-wool blanket, light but pervasive that pushed him down, made him feel warm and tired. Zack blinked and kept staring at the blood on the ground. He had to keep fighting, if only by refusing to close his eyes. He had to remain awake, had to remain aware.

"Zackary."

Zack looked up, or tried to. His neck wouldn't move. But he knew the voice and he knew whom he would see. Warm, leatherclad hands touched his face and tilted it upwards, letting him meet a pair of bright emerald eyes.

"You're not going to die," Sephiroth said firmly. Zack believed him. The General was one scary SOB and even Death would back off for him.

"Sir," he gasped. "I'm sorr—"

"Don't talk," Sephiroth said. Then Zenri, coal-dark Zenri of the bright purple eyes, was suddenly in his face.

"Aw, shit," said Zenri. Zenri was the medic of the Seventh and if he said 'aw, shit', then something was really wrong. There were few things Zenri could not fix, but if he said 'aw, shit'... Well, shit!

"Shit what?" Dulles demanded, sounding half-frantic. He was such a dad.

"Shit, he's fucked," Zenri said heavily, shaking his head. "The sword's in his heart. Even if he heals up, the blade will slice it open again and again and he's gonna bleed out until he dies."

"Gee, thanks," Zack wanted to say dryly, but talking seemed like a bad idea. It also hurt like holy fuck, much like breathing did right now.

"And if we take the sword out?" That was Sephiroth, his voice cool and calm. Zack clung to that calm. Maybe there was some hope after all...?

"He'll bleed out even faster," Zenri said, shaking his head. "Even if we take it out slow, the wound is just too big."

"Materia?"

"It just sticks flesh together, it doesn't stick it together _right._"

Sephiroth looked off to the side, not saying anything. Zack thought he could see the gears, no, the binary numbers zipping around in his head, sorting through all the possible choices and going to...

"What about Deepground?" Sephiroth asked, looking at Zenri.

"Deep what-now?" Dulles asked, blinking.

Deepground? Deepground... Zack searched his fading mind and found the term buried under the cobwebs of basic SOLDIER training. Deepground was an extensive medical facility underneath Midgar, even under the slums, that dealt with SOLDIER-related issues. Their official name was the Department of Military Science, but no one really used that. It was either "MilSci", which usually referred to the small labs that did The Process and basic checkups, or "Deepground", where the really serious things went. Despite the fact that Zack knew it was just a SOLDIER hospital, the fact that he had to go into Deepground in the first place made him feel, for the first time, that he was well and truly fucked.

Zenri's purple eyes narrowed. "...Maybe," he said after what felt like an eternity. "Deepground _might_ work... Better than trying nothing, anyway. The door's under the Garrison, sir."

Sephiroth grasped the hilt of Dulles's sword, still jammed deep in Zack's shoulder, and Zack gasped. Even with his dying nerves, his blood-starved body, he still felt the meaty squelch of the sword being drawn from his body, the shearing of the blade through his flesh despite Sephiroth's best intentions. Zack involuntarily screamed, but the cry came out in a bloody, racking cough and Zack shut his eyes, red-hot waves of agony pouring through his torso. He heard the sounds of rustling leather, and a second later something was wrapped warm and tight around him, binding his wounded chest; it was the General's coat, pressing tight against him so his shorn torso wouldn't bleed out even more. The pain was excruciating and Zack wondered why he hadn't died yet.

_"I guess what they said about superfast healing was true... But apparently it's not fast enough if everyone's freaking out so much..."_

Zack made himself open his eyes. He couldn't see much except the ceiling flying above him, and the General's drawn, tight face. Zack was surprised to see him looking so worried.After all, SOLDIERS did die and there wasn't a reason he should be making a fuss...

_"But nobody expects to die in peacetime..."_

"Sir," Zack said, barely above a whisper.

"Don't talk, Zack," came the curt reply.

"Why are you doing this?" Zack breathed, saving his strength.

"Toriko likes you," Sephiroth said, glancing down at him. "And so do I. We'd be very put out if you died."

Zack laughed weakly. "Is that...so..."

"You're talking yourself to death. Shut up."

"Yes...sir..."

Sephiroth swept through the lower levels of the Garrison, people leaping out of his way as he approached, and Zack saw the ceiling lights change from the usual fluorescent yellow to the harsher, blue-tinged white of incandescent bulbs. They burned into his eyes like hospital lights, and Zack started getting nervous. His mind was no longer fogging up or sinking into death, but had stalled somehow in a stage of fuzzy comprehension. He was aware of things, but not the important ones. He was more aware of the ceiling lights than he was of the blood that still slopped messily out of his chest wound, dripping down Sephiroth's coat and leaving blood spatters on the floor.

"Halt!" Someone barked. Zack rolled his eyes around to see a Deepground soldier, looking basically the same as their surface-level counterparts save for a shorter sword and odder helmet, standing before an armored door. Zack thought the sword he was armed with looked more like a big combat knife. "General, what are you doing down here?"

"I need to take this boy to the First-Class facilities," Sephiroth said. Zack felt indignant. At twenty-one years of age he was no boy. "Move."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I need to see some authorization."

Sephiroth suddenly snarled and the Deepground soldier gagged as Sephiroth kicked him in the stomach, slamming him against the steel door. Zack was amused and impressed by the body-shaped dent the Deepgrounder made in the metal.

"You want some more authorization?" Sephiroth asked, his eyes flashing as the soldier slumped to his knees, gagging and hacking. For a moment, Zack caught a glimpse of the young man Sephiroth used to be, the one who'd won his first ten promotions on kill record alone...

"Sir," the soldier coughed, clutching his stomach and trying weakly to push himself to his feet. "First Class facilities need Peace Enforcement _and_ Science authorization...sir."

Sephiroth seriously looked like he was about to kick down the door when something made him pause. He turned, and Zack lifted his head slightly to see what had halted his rage. In a side entrance, leaning against the wall, was a brown-haired man with dark brown eyes. Zack's first thought was that he was Sephiroth's brother, because the man was just that androgynously pretty. And he seemed to share Sephiroth's taste in odd leather outfits, though his was red as opposed to Sephiroth's black, and covered his chest completely. Rather incongruously, he also wore a labcoat. Zack supposed that was probably because he didn't have any pockets on his leather what-have-you.

"This is an unexpected surprise," the man said in a low, melodious voice. He didn't seem to notice the beaten soldier in front of the door.

"I need a favor," Sephiroth said, all calm once again.

"I gather," the man said, just as even. His eyes, illuminated by Mako's glow, flicked to Zack. "That's a Second-Class SOLDIER, isn't it?"

"I need the First-Class facilities," Sephiroth said, taking a step toward the man.

The man's mouth quirked. "Just because they're First-Class doesn't mean they're better."

"He's going to die if he doesn't get them."

The man's brows rose. Meanwhile, Zack became aware of the dripping noise as his blood hit the floor, spilling off Sephiroth's makeshift bandage/coat.

"Such interest. Is he that special to you?" The man asked with a lewd intonation.

"That is none of your business."

The man in the doorway didn't say anything, just looked at Zack with a considering eye. Zack took a deep breath, or as deep as his injuries would allow.

"Kinda 'preciate it if you'd hurry up," he gasped. "Dyin's not all that fun."

"I told you to shut up," Sephiroth said, but the man in the doorway burst out laughing.

"This way," the man said, turning back into his side entrance. "I'll take care of the matter personally."

"Thank you, G," Sephiroth said, following the man at once.

"Don't thank me yet," the man named G said in amusement. As they turned a corner in the small, narrow side passage, he said, "I believe in reciprocity. Since this young man obviously means so much to you, you now owe me a favor of suitable proportions."

Sephiroth didn't say anything. Privately, Zack thought G's particular phrasing and smiling, sure-of-himself attitude made it sound like his commander had just made a deal with the Devil.

"How's your daughter, by the way?" G asked, and pushed open a door leading into a semi-familiar room. Zack looked around and saw the same upright tubes used for The Process lining the walls, some of them occupied and some of them not.

"Why do you want to know?" Sephiroth asked sharply.

"It's just a friendly inquiry," G said, walking to one of the empty Process tubes and fiddling with the terminal in front of it. There was a mechanical whirring noise and the tube, formerly upright, began to slide backwards, rotating so the entrance hatch was on the top. "How old is she this year?"

"...thirteen," Sephiroth said, shifting his grip on Zack. Zack looked up at him and saw his face tightening into a narrow, hostile expression.

"Mm," G said, as if they'd been discussing the weather. He tapped a few more things on the terminal and with a squelching noise, viscous Mako began to flow into the tube, green as new grass and as thick as syrup. "Strip him and put him in the chamber. Has she had her first period yet?"

"That is none of your business," Sephiroth snapped for the second time, kneeling on the ground and setting Zack's legs on the floor so Zack sat cushioned in the crook of his arm. The dark-haired youth cried out a little when Sephiroth untied his coat, the sudden cessation of pressure letting his wounded chest split slightly. Zack coughed again, blood spraying from his lips, and Sephiroth picked him up carefully, almost as if in apology.

"But it's our favorite person's," G said, his mouth twisting ironically. "And you can bet he'll ask, and do more than that besides." He turned, looking at Zack and frowning. "Get him off the floor, do you want him to get infected with something? Put him on that table over there."

"We'll need to cut his shirt off," Sephiroth said, lifting Zack and setting him on one of the surgical tables nearby. Zack's head lolled to the side and he stared at the almost foot-wide swath of blood that marked Sephiroth's trail. How had he been bleeding that much and had yet not died? Crazy. The Process was just crazy.

_"And I'm only Second Class..."_ Zack thought bemusedly. _"What happens when you're a First?"_

Then Sephiroth and G were both over him, the former hovering and the latter snipping off his ruined shirt with a practiced hand. Sephiroth moved away as several white-coated lab techs came over, and Zack shivered as in a matter of seconds, his clothes were neatly stripped away; the efficiency and the speed frightened him more than the naked. G studied his chest, tilting his head in a birdlike fashion.

"He's going to need some inside work," G said, half-talking to himself and Sephiroth. "It looks like things have started to heal wrong already. Well, we'll fix him up when he comes out."

Lab techs with cold, rubber-coated hands picked Zack up and carried him over to the half-full tube, setting him carefully inside. The Mako, cool as a waterbed, shaped itself around his body in what should have been a comforting sensation. Instead, the powerful substance seeped into his wound and set it on fire, shooting into his body and igniting his viscera in pure pain. Zack screamed/gasped/began coughing up blood, and Sephiroth looked at him in alarm.

"He'll be fine," G said, waving a hand dismissively. "That's just his nerves coming back to life. Don't forget the oxygen mask, he's fragile," he said, directing his last comment to one of the lab techs.

"How long is this going to take?" Sephiroth asked, looking at Zack in the tube.

"Ten weeks," G said.

"Ten weeks?" Sephiroth looked at him sharply. "Why?"

"You don't understand what we're doing, do you?" G said with a small, superior sort of smile. Zack thought it made him look like a slimy bastard.

"Enlighten me," Sephiroth said through gritted teeth.

"We are essentially putting him through the Second-to-First Process," G said, and Zack stared at him. He'd imagined making First Class, but...

"Why?" Sephiroth asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Many reasons," G said, still dancing around the subject. When Sephiroth's eyes flashed, however, he quickly got to the point. "He's suffered an incredible amount of trauma; anything less radical wouldn't be fast enough.

"The Mako bath we're going fill that chamber with will, firstly, heal any physical damage your young man has. That'll take care of the immediate danger. Then the Mako will modify his body, causing his cells to accept new information, replicate until there's enough of them to support his system, and at the same time phase out his old cells. This will improve his internal recovery time and give him "smart cells"; instead of just blindly sealing to whatever open wound it finds, his flesh will regrow the way nature intended it to, so we'll never see things like the damage his self-healing has already done; for example, his ribs are beginning to grow into his lungs. That alone would kill him if we let him out of the tank now.

"Next, your young man is going to need surgery to fix the things that have already healed wrong, and finally, he's going to need to be trained so when we let him out of here, he doesn't underestimate his strength and kill things by accident." G steepled his hands and tilted toward Sephiroth in a solicitous manner, saying condescendingly, "Did you understand all that, S?"

Sephiroth said something, but Zack couldn't hear him; an oxygen mask, almost insultingly simple, was being put over his nose and mouth, and a second later a lab tech shut the hatch to the Mako tube, locking it with a pressurized hiss. Meanwhile, the Mako had continued to rise and was now covering Zack almost entirely; it was as though he were floating in a bathtub, except instead of warm water there was some sort of fucking burning green acid from hell eating into his goddamn body and holy shit he knew it was doing good but FUCK! Spasmodically Zack hit the side of the tube with his free arm, pain and anger combining for that one spontaneous movement.

Sephiroth half-ran over to the tube, looking at him worriedly. He looked genuinely anxious, really upset. Zack blinked the tears out of his eyes and tried to smile; it wasn't like he could talk.

"We put a narcotic substance into the mix," G said, walking to stand by Sephiroth's side. "He'll be unconscious in a few minutes, and then feeling no pain for the next ten weeks." Putting his hand on Sephiroth's bare shoulder, he said, "Come on, let's get you some clean clothes. You look like a baby exploded on you."

Sephiroth turned and looked at G with such a perfect "what the fuck are you smoking" face that Zack, despite his pain and an insidious sense of growing sleepiness, burst out laughing. The two men looked at him, and the tension in Sephiroth's face eased.

"Have a good sleep," Sephiroth said, touching the glass tube. "It's the only vacation you're getting all year, understand?" To G, he said, "I have another favor I need to ask of you."

"You're racking up quite the account, S. What is it?"

"You asked about my daughter..."

"Ah-ha..."

The two men walked off, discussing something in quiet voices. Zack closed his eyes as the Mako began to seep up over his face, totally covering him in cool liquid. The burning sensation was rapidly fading, replaced with a wonderful numbness and near euphoria that made Zack wonder what other kind of drugs had been put into his particular bath. As the tube began to tilt upright, Zack closed his eyes and let himself sink blissfully into oblivion.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

A superlong chapter to make up for the hiatus: hopefully it is interesting. I wish I could say that the chapters will be coming faster, but they won't be. I think I gave myself carpal tunnel by the mad pace I was publishing at last year, so I'm taking it easy to spare my wrists and shoulders. Recently I've realized that I'm a lot weaker physically than I like to admit, so I have to start taking care of myself because in a few years, I'll be living alone and there won't be anyone to do it for me. Thanks for understanding.

/\

I just finished Dirge of Cerberus. I did not get the Gackt ending, but what I know and what I've seen of G so far looks interesting, so I threw him into PYLO for fun. Sephiroth doesn't like him much. Because G works in Deepground as a scientist-type person, he thinks G's a traitor to their cause. They're brothers-in-arms when it comes to the hating of Hojo.

Or so I like to think. :D I haven't played Crisis Core (I am gonna be all over that when it comes out, man... Now I just need a PSP), I know nothing conclusive about G. Personally I think he's Sephiroth's sort-of twin or something because he has the one-winged deal going on too and instead of receiving Jenova cells to pump up his powers, he got purified/diddled-with Lifestream. I refuse to believe the theory going around that he may be Sephiroth's prototype or somehow stronger than Sephiroth, because DUDE! That just ain't right. Gackt cannot trump Sephiroth. Nuh-uh. Nooooooo way. I refuse to believe it. Even if it somehow comes out canon, I will cover my ears and scream "LALALA! It's not happening!"

/\

And to those who haven't played DoC, Deepground actually did start off as an treatment facility for injured SOLDIERS. Then G did something internally that made it a madhouse of loonies, though for what reason we're not sure. Maybe he had a "go-boom" moment like Sephiroth in Nibelheim. Who knows. In any case, that's another reason I don't really like or care for G now; he's responsible for that crimson whore, Rosso, and her psychotic tendencies that make little to no sense. And why is she wearing a carpet?

So there we go, another chapter. Woot. Zack is now First Class, or in the process of becoming one. Yay for him.

/\/\/\/\/\


	105. Chapter 95

Put Your Lights On

9.21.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Ninety-Five

/\/\/\/\/\

Only Sephiroth would wait until Toriko was had a mouth full of tea before asking calmly, "Have you menstruated yet?"

Toriko paused. Her tea was not terribly hot, so holding it in her mouth while she pored over an answer wouldn't hurt her tongue. Much. She swallowed and said in as even a voice as she could muster, "That's an interesting question to ask."

"Surely you see the significance of it."

"I do." _"After all, I don't want to have your children."_ "And no, I have not."

"Do you ever want to?"

Toriko sipped her tea. "Not particularly," she said after a moment. "It seems uncomfortable."

Sephiroth nodded. Leaning back in his chair, he asked, "Would you like to take care of that before it happens?"

Toriko looked at Sephiroth, confused and yet perfectly informed. "In what manner?" She inquired politely.

He just gave her a look and thought _"Surgery" _at her.

_"Won't it grow back?"_

_"I don't think so. Your healing rate's slower then mine, and I'm pretty sure post-surgery cauterization would take care of that problem."_

_"Cauterization?"_

_"Burning a wound to seal it."_ As Toriko recoiled, Sephiroth calmly went on to think, _"I have a scar on my hip from the war from when my femoral artery was severed in combat. The sheer amount of blood gushing through the wound prevented the flesh from healing, so Zenri stuck a red-hot spear against it. It solved the problem quite effectively, and the fact that I have a scar means the flesh has never healed the way it should have."_

Toriko squirmed. _"It...It would take care of the…_problem._ But..."_

"_But?"_ Sephiroth inquired, his mental voice surprisingly gentle.

_"That's a part of my body that's going to be missing."_ She looked at Sephiroth and thought, _"Why don't you take out something of yours?"_

_"I could, but Hojo's probably already gotten what he wants from me," _Sephiroth thought, and Toriko realized it was true. During his biannual exams, there were long stretches of time where Sephiroth was unconscious. No doubt certain things could be (and probably were) extracted during this period.

_"Who would we go to, anyway?"_ Toriko wondered. _"I can't imagine us going to a regular surgeon anyway, what with my age..."_

_"And the suspicions that would be raised when I take my only daughter in for an infertility operation,"_ Sephiroth thought dryly.

_"Father!" _It wasn't often that Sephiroth could make Toriko squirm with words, but this was, after all, a touchy subject.

_"He's not a regular surgeon."_ Sephiroth half-closed his eyes. _"The one I have in mind. He's...strange. I don't like him, but he's very good at what he does. And he's almost as knowledgeable as Hojo."_

Toriko tilted her head. _"Who is this person?"_

_"A fellow labrat,"_ Sephiroth thought wryly. Sobering, he added, _"A deceptively likeable man. Don't trust him for a second."_

_"Why?"_

_"He has the nasty habit of extracting painful favors from you."_

_"Like what?"_ Toriko asked, morbidly curious.

_"I was his personal hitman for about six months,"_ Sephiroth thought sourly. _"There was a position he wanted that had too many people between him and it, so he yanked me out of the war to take care of things for him."_

_"That doesn't sound difficult for you,"_ Toriko thought cautiously.

Physically, Toriko sensed, it hadn't been. However, the fact that he had been blackmailed into cold-blooded murder sat ill with Sephiroth: killing people who were trying to kill him was one thing, but figuring out undetectable ways to end lives... That six-month stint was what had given Sephiroth his rudimentary, if extensive, training in pharmacology, which presently manifested itself in a black box full of sedatives and anti-hallucinogens, among poisons and other drugs that would make Seishi turn green with envy.

"_It's the principle of the thing,"_ Sephiroth thought at Toriko. _"He won't do something for free, and the more you want him to do something for you, the more he'll make you do something for him."_

Toriko looked at him, troubled. _"Why are you putting me in the hands of such a dangerous man?"_

"_Because I'm the one asking the favor, not you,"_ Sephiroth replied, _"So any odd requests he makes will be done by me. Also, he's the only one in the Department of Military Science who's not intimidated by Hojo."_ Sephiroth paused. _"He's also the only choice we have."_

"_Oh."_

"_Unless you want to take out your uterus yourself."_

Toriko shuddered. _"No thank you."_

"It's settled then," Sephiroth said aloud, getting to his feet. "How does this Friday sound?"

Toriko stared. "What," she said finally. "So soon?"

Sephiroth nodded. "The sooner the better."

Toriko squirmed again. "I suppose," she said reluctantly. "He _will_ use anesthesia, won't he?"

"Copious amounts of it," Sephiroth assured her. "He remembers what it's like to be on the other end of the scalpel."

"_One then wonders why he is now on the giving end of the scalpel,"_ Toriko mused.

"_I've been wondering that ever since I met him,"_ Sephiroth thought with a sigh. He looked at her seriously. _"Are you sure you're alright with this?"_

"_Whether I'm alright or not doesn't matter,"_ Toriko thought, shrugging. _"It's something that has to be done."_

"_You'll never be able to have children."_

"_I never wanted them anyway."_

For some reason, Sephiroth looked sad. Toriko blinked when he reached out and stroked her hair.

"Well," he said finally, touching her cheek. "You could always adopt, I suppose."

"Father..."

"Go to sleep," he said in a very fatherly tone of voice. "You have school tomorrow."

"Yes, Father." Toriko drained her teacup and set it on the table. "Father..."

"Yes?"

Toriko bit her lip. She wanted to say she was scared, that she would rather run away than go back to any kind of laboratory setting again. Summoned by the memory of past pain, her blood began to burn like the Mako mix that had been dripped into her arms and legs, her skin like the baths that had made her nearly go insane with agony. Sharper, though, than those somatic pains was the horrifying possibility of there being a child out there, half her and half _him_, raised into the same cursed existence the two of them had (nearly) escaped. And then there were those goddamn rape memories from Seishi...

"_Da-Chao forbid another child like me comes into the world..." _whispered a voice in her mind that didn't sound entirely like hers, and certainly not like Sephiroth's. Tinted with tones of Seishi, it whispered,_ "Another Demonspawn."_

"_You still don't think that, do you?" _ Sephiroth thought at her, half-exasperated and half-worried. _"That's you're Demonspawn?"_

Toriko shook her head. _"I used to,"_ she thought, looking at him. _"I used to be afraid that I was half you... But now I know you, and I find that I don't mind so much."_

Sephiroth chuckled. _"Keep in mind that you do bring out my better side,"_ he reminded her. _"There are parts of me you don't want to know."_

Like what? As far as Toriko was concerned, she already knew the worst about him, that he was a killer and that he'd raped her mother. Oddly enough, these facts did not distress her; Sephiroth had been a murdering rapist and nothing could change that, but he was her father _now_, and frankly that was all she cared about. Not that she ignored the other things; she just refused to be frightened about them. He'd never kill or sexually assault her, so why worry?

_"Besides, he's calmed down so much since the end of the war,"_ Toriko thought, comparing Seishi's transferred memories against her own. _"I wonder what brought that about."_

She considered asking him, but Sephiroth had a peculiar, distant sort of look on his face that made her pause. It was at once sad and angry, guilty and pleased, and she guessed he was thinking about those very things about himself that he did not want her to know. Toriko kept her mouth and mind silent, and waited until Sephiroth came back to the present a few seconds later before speaking.

"I'll pick you up after school on Friday," he said. "And we'll go to Deepground together. Alright?"

"Yes, Father. As you wish."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

When I was young, I often wondered why Sephiroth went bonkers in Nibelheim. I went through a couple of different theories, such as "Jenova made him do it" and "the stuff in the books just blew his mind", but eventually I realized that Sephiroth was not playing with a full deck in Nibelheim, and most likely he never had been. The theory I'm working off now is that Sephiroth had to fission himself into many small pieces to keep himself going despite traumatic incidents that he doesn't really think about. Why else would he end up with three _shinentai_/avatars, a.k.a. the silver-haired men? His experiences in the lab and in the war were so bad that he developed a kind of MPD, with the psychotic tendencies being a switch he can flip on and off. To my interpretation of Sephiroth, psycho equals freedom, though he's finding that peacefulness and sanity have their own perks.

MPD, by the way, is not the same thing as schizophrenia: schizophrenia is scattered thought processes, while multiple personality disorder is just that. People blurring the distinction is a pet peeve of mine.

/\

With Guardian1's gracious permission, I have begun to manga-ize his/her story "Sunshine in Winter", which is hands-down the most EXCELLENT FFVII pairing fic I have ever read. Go read the story. Then look at the doujinshi, which is posted on my dA account. :D It's pretty stuff.

/\/\/\/\/\


	106. The real Chapter 96

Put Your Lights On

9.21.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Ninety-Six

/\/\/\/\/\

By now, everyone in the Garrison was so used to seeing Toriko around that no one made anything of her coming in on Friday, though Sephiroth caught a few funny looks when he walked Toriko over to the stairs that led to Deepground. True to its name, the military medical complex was some fifty feet below the surface, and the long, narrow stair leading to it was rather ominous, with small, corrugated metal steps, harsh incandescent lighting, and the thick, somewhat dusty smell of concrete. Sephiroth began to feel claustrophobic, but that might have been Toriko's anxiety rubbing off on him. She'd acquiesced to the surgery well enough, but every passing day had made her unhappier about it. Like a good girl, though, she was keeping her discomfort to herself. It wasn't like Sephiroth was exactly jumping for joy about this surgery either, if only for how unhappy it made Toriko.

Genesis, otherwise known as G, was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs, his Mako eyes glowing in the dark. Immediately Sephiroth felt Toriko tense up and he couldn't blame her—there was the man who was going to take her organs out. But he was surprised at something else that flickered across her mind too.

_"Toriko, you don't like him because he's _pretty?_"_

_"It has been my experience,"_ she replied in a rather flushed tone, _"that pretty people are dangerous. Just look at you and Mother, as well as Scarlet and Rufus and the Turks..."_ After a moment she added, _"I don't trust pretty people."_

Sephiroth wondered if he should be offended or amused. He opted for the latter because G certainly was very, erm, "pretty". Probably a better word to use would have been "effeminate" but the phrase "pretty boy" as applied to G made Sephiroth smile.

"Right on time," G said in that charming, mellifluous voice of his. Sephiroth felt Toriko's distrust increase, and he heard her slowing down on the stairs. G looked at her and smiled. "And here's the guest of honor."

_"Father, I don't like him."_

_"You don't have to like him."_

"_…"_

G took a step back and pushed on a door Sephiroth hadn't noticed—it blended seamlessly into the wall, and at the lightest touch of G's hand, slid aside to reveal a steel-encased corridor. It probably led to G's private lab.

"This way," he said, motioning to it.

Sephiroth felt the lightest of touches on his wrist, and he looked down just as Toriko slid her hand into his, her small fingers gripping surprisingly hard. Through her glove, her palm was sweaty, and though she had her poker face on, Sephiroth could see the subtle flutter of her pulse in her neck—Toriko was terrified.

_"She must see this as a return to the lab,"_ Sephiroth realized, and a rare stab of guilt made him feel like a cad. _"How could I do this to her?"_

Nevertheless, he gave her hand a gentle tug and the two of them walked down the last flight of stairs, following G into the steel corridor. The hidden door slid smoothly shut behind them, and for a while there was nothing but the long walk through the wending steel tunnel, no sound but for Sephiroth and G's feet on the floor. Toriko, thanks to her lessons with Nanashi, was walking very quietly.

After about ten minutes, the three of them arrived in G's private laboratory. Sephiroth had been there once or twice, and it looked the same now as it had then: black walls, black floor and ceiling, granite-topped counters that were, of course, black as well. Various substances of dubious origin were bubbling in flasks, either because of some applied heating source or because of some strange inherent property. Unlike Hojo's laboratory, there were no living specimens in sight unless one counted the cell cultures growing quietly on one of the tables.

"Here we are," G said, turning around with a pleasant smile. "S, you can leave now."

"What?" Sephiroth asked, eyes narrowing, as Toriko squeezed his hand.

"Do you want to watch?" G asked, his brow piquing.

"Well...no, but..."

G chuckled. "Don't worry, I won't do anything to your precious daughter other than what we agreed on."

Toriko looked up at Sephiroth, and he felt the pang of guilt morphing into a trident, poking relentlessly at his squirming insides. Her large, gray-green olivine eyes were filled with fear, as were her thoughts, and for a moment Sephiroth wondered if she was deliberately trying to manipulate him with her feelings. He wouldn't have put it above her.

G looked at Toriko. "You won't feel a thing," he said to her in a surprisingly gentle voice. "And you won't even have postop pain to worry about."

"How do you know?" Toriko asked, looking at G; the fear was still in her eyes, but it was honed now, sharp and accusing. "Have you taken out your uterus lately?"

"No," G said. "But I'll get around to it one of these days. Can you imagine me giving birth? It would be like trying to squeeze a pineapple through my urethra."

Sephiroth could have slapped his forehead, or maybe G. The man was an odd duck, possessed of an even odder sense of humor—maybe that was why he'd become a scientist, it appealed to his weird sense of how things should be. Toriko blinked, taken off-guard by his remark.

"How did you get into this business?" Toriko asked, tilting her head. "Why didn't you become a SOLDIER like Father?"

"Your father cheated," G said. Sephiroth shot him a warning look and G chuckled again, making Sephiroth grind his teeth. "Ask your dad to tell you about it sometime," G said, looking at Sephiroth with a smile and hard eyes. "It was a _fantastic_ escape."

"Hold your tongue or I will rip it out," Sephiroth grated.

"You should watch your own in front of your daughter."

"Nothing you can say will diminish Father in my eyes," Toriko said, her voice becoming hard. "You petty, jealous little man."

"Excuse me?" G said, looking at her with an arched brow.

Sephiroth covered Toriko's mouth before she could say anything back—she'd not yet outgrown the habit of enraging people by speaking the truth. While it had been funny with the Wutaiese brat-princess, Sephiroth definitely did not want her cheesing off G. The man could do some things that made Sephiroth extremely nervous.

"Forgive her," Sephiroth said. "She's just nervous."

G shrugged. "She shouldn't be," he said. "I'm very good at my job." He looked at Toriko, and then at Sephiroth. "Well? Are you going to leave or not?"

Sephiroth looked down at Toriko, who looked back up at him with the same pleading look of a few minutes before.

_"Please don't leave me alone with him," _she begged. _"Father, he's scary."_

_"The man's a pansy,"_ Sephiroth thought at her reassuringly. _"He has some SOLDIER mods, but they don't protect his balls. Go for them at will."_

_"Father, I can't sense his mind!"_ Toriko thought desperately.

Sephiroth paused. _"What do you mean?"_ He asked finally.

Toriko took a deep breath. _"When I was young, my and Mother's survival depended on knowing if those around us meant harm. Mother was good enough to pick up on a lot of threats, but sometimes there would be people she couldn't see or didn't suspect. _I ­_knew because of our special abilities, so I could warn her before these people took action against us..."_

_"What does this have to do with G?"_ Sephiroth thought, glancing at the brown-haired man.

_"Father, his mind is just not _there,"Toriko thought passionately. _"I can sense that he's alive, but otherwise he's completely gone. There's nothing going on in his head."_

Sephiroth was troubled. During the war, when he'd been playing with his own mental abilities, he hadn't discovered anyone who could just erase or turn off their minds in the way Toriko was describing. That left only one possibility, a surprisingly frightening one. Was it possible that G was somehow aware of their mental communiqués and was blocking them out?

Sephiroth concentrated his thoughts on G. He was not particularly in the habit of breaking into people's minds; he preferred to work from beneath, stirring a person's emotions and fears until they did exactly what he wanted them to do. It was sometimes a tedious process, but always reliable. Toriko was somewhat the opposite: she grabbed surface thoughts, surface emotions, and while that made her an essential "mind reader", she couldn't actually do much with her power. Maybe that was why she was so frightened by G.

Sephiroth tried to locate G's mind, and found nothing. He might as well have been thinking at empty space. The man was right in front of him, smiling and watching him, and his physical presence was the only thing that let Sephiroth know he was there. The silver-haired man withdrew and studied G for a moment, puzzled but not particularly worried. At first. He'd never been able to tell what the bastard was thinking, but now that it wasn't just _his_ life on the line...

Without warning, Sephiroth mentally struck at the space where G's mind should have been. He was rewarded with a spasm of pain and G suddenly staggered, clutching at his head.

_"Ah-ha,"_ Sephiroth thought with a smirk. _"So he was only hiding."_

"What's wrong?" Sephiroth asked, putting a mildly concerned look on his face.

"I have no idea," G said, straightening. He was pale, his face already shiny with sweat; Sephiroth was surprised at the violent reaction. Wiping his forehead, the brown-haired man said, "I guess it's time for my exam or something."

_That_ was surprising. "You still go back to the lab?"

"Of course. He doesn't let me see my files, that'd make me independent of him." G looked at the clock on the far wall. "We really should get going on this."

"Father..." Toriko squeezed his hand.

"It's alright, Tori," Sephiroth said, touching her cheek. "It's for your own good."

Toriko looked down at the ground, not saying anything. Sephiroth could hear her thoughts stalling, scrambling, flying apart in a million directions that didn't go anywhere. She was panicking. He was strongly reminded of her only a few years back, when she'd been afraid of pretty much anything that moved. Apparently she was still like that on some level, and that annoyed him a surprisingly great deal. Assertive Toriko was exasperating sometimes, but she was much better than the 'easily cowed' and 'perpetually timid' versions. Sephiroth couldn't help but resent G for making Toriko regress to her eleven-year-old persona.

Her eyes welled up with tears. Sephiroth felt like strangling G. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the brown-haired man looking at them strangely.

"She didn't agree to this?" G asked Sephiroth, looking at Toriko.

"She agreed," Sephiroth said as Toriko sniffled. "She just doesn't want to."

"Then she shouldn't," G said, folding his arms.

Sephiroth looked at him. "What?"

"It's her own body," G said, nodding at her. Toriko looked at him, her eyes wide with disbelief and wonder. "I was under the impression she put you up to asking me."

"What? No. What thirteen-year-old girl would want to remove her uterus and ovaries?"

"Exactly," G said. "Look, S. You and I, we never had a choice. Why are you denying your daughter?"

"I'm not denying her," Sephiroth said, but a sinking feeling was starting to weigh down on him, hooking his intestines and dragging them to his feet. Toriko didn't look at him, but he could sense her silent approval of G's words.

G looked at Toriko. "Do you want to take them out?" He asked seriously.

"I understand why they should be removed," she said. "But I don't understand why I can't have a normal hysterectomy."

"Cutting and tying your tubes would still leave the equipment in your body," G explained. "Therefore, Hojo would still be able to get at them."

"Are we _sure_ he wants to get at them?"

"If you're sure of what Hojo's doing, it's already too late," Sephiroth said, looking down at her. "The man is cracked."

"He's not a good scientist," G said, nodding. "He's had some good leaps of intuition, but that's really all he has going for him."

"Toriko, you know what could happen if you don't take those out?" Sephiroth asked, looking down at her.

"I could have children," she said, looking up at him.

"Yes. _My_ children, Toriko. You understand this, don't you?"

Toriko nodded, dropping her eyes to the floor. Then she hesitated for a moment, and Sephiroth stared at her in disbelief as she said, "A lot of my fear stems from the initial impression that the conception would be done...the old-fashioned way."

"Ah," G said, suddenly looking ill. Sephiroth stared.

Toriko squirmed. "But, Father... As long as I don't know, I don't care." She hung her head. "I'm sorry, but I... I just don't want to. I can't do it."

Sephiroth felt like hitting her. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had always been under the impression that Toriko could do whatever was necessary—just look at Wutai, for God's sake, she'd done that all on her own and not even when her life had really been in danger. And now she was refusing to act when the possibility of unnatural children was looming right in her face...!

_"I don't want or need another child."_

"Besides," Toriko said quietly. "I might want to have children in the future."

"With who?" Sephiroth snapped. "Who else is a viable genetic candidate for you, Toriko?"

She sniffed, and tears began to roll out of her eyes. Sephiroth snarled in exasperation and turned away, raking his hand through his hair as a spasm of guilt pulled in his chest.

"This is pointless," he said, looking at her. "We're going home. Wipe your face."

She sniffled, complying. "Yes, Father."

"Jackass." G said clearly.

Sephiroth looked at him, his eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

"You are," G said, folding his arms. "A jackass."

"Your point being?"

"You only ever think of yourself, don't you?" The brown-haired man said, his voice colored with contempt.

"The pot's calling the kettle black, isn't it?"

"I got into this business because I didn't want any more of _us,_" G hissed, and in that moment his entire demeanor changed: gone was the cool, peculiar, intelligent Deepground scientist. Sephiroth was stunned to see a brown-haired, brown-eyed reflection of his most savage self, the barely human thing he'd been during his lab years. He took a step back involuntarily as G went on, snapping, "I did it out of concern. You're lucky enough to have a child—"

"You call this lucky?" Sephiroth demanded, pointing at Toriko. "You don't even know anything about her!"

In retrospect, he realized how bad it must have looked, the words and the gesture and the obvious disgust in his voice. He'd meant that Toriko had suffered so much, just by being his child; she had been scorned, hated, and taken by Hojo just because he'd given her half his genes. Furthermore, Sephiroth knew he wasn't a perfect father—most of the time, he wasn't sure if he was even being a father, let alone a good one. He was aware that he did not treat Toriko like a normal girl her age; he was frightened for her, therefore he drove her hard and tried to make her tough, so she'd be alright if he wasn't around. No child of his could ever be called lucky, not by any stretch of the imagination. At that moment, however, he had no idea why Toriko suddenly sobbed and then fled from the room, her footsteps fading down the long corridor. Sephiroth cursed and went after her.

"Toriko!" He shouted, striding out of the laboratory. "Get back here at once!"

"Jackass," G said as the door to the lab began to shut behind him. Sephiroth flipped him the bird over his shoulder and followed his daughter down the hall. He found her waiting by the secret door, sitting in the corner with her knees drawn up to her chest and her head bowed, her hair hiding her face from view. At his approach, she lifted her tearstained face and Sephiroth stopped at the look on her face. For some reason he couldn't breathe.

"Tori..."

"I remember when we first met," Toriko said quietly. "You said you controlled all the parts of your life as well as you're able to. That includes who your children are, to a certain extent. You didn't want the decision of whether or not you had children being left in the hands of someone else." Toriko paused, and went on.

"I'm just a part, aren't I?" She looked down at the ground. "I knew it. I'm like a pet or something. You're even taking me to get f-fixed..."

"Oh, shut up," Sephiroth snapped, trying to sound tough. Kneeling in front of her as she tried not to dissolve into tears, he wondered what the best course of action was. She was definitely upset despite having no real reason to be, and it would be best if he could get her calmed down. Toriko didn't cry much these days, but if anything her tears were even more effective for their scarcity. "I..." He awkwardly put his hands on her shoulders and hugged her, stroking her hair. Physical contact always settled her down. "It's not like that."

"Isn't it?" She asked in a quavering voice. "This is all so I don't have kittens. You're not concerned about me at all."

"That's not true!"

"Then why are you so angry with me?" She demanded, pushing away from him and staring at him with large, accusing gray-green eyes. "Isn't it because I'm not doing what you want?"

"No, it's because I'm _worried_ about you." He stroked her hair. It was very thick and very smooth, and he liked petting it when they were sitting quietly on the couch, reading or napping or whatever. It probably didn't help the 'kitten image' she had of herself. "You...you can't imagine how you feel when you realize you have a child out there you know nothing about. It makes you so angry, Toriko. It makes you afraid in ways you never imagined. Worrying about someone you care about is the worst kind of torture." When she just looked at him blankly, Sephiroth sighed and hugged her again. "I didn't mean to be angry. It's just that..."

"I know." She buried her face against his shoulder and neck, an oddly furtive gesture that went straight to his heart. "I love you."

Sephiroth stopped. He knew what he was supposed to say, but... As he struggled with those three idiotic, oversaid little words, Toriko mysteriously smiled at him and touched his face. Her fingertips were cool and soft.

"It's alright, Father," she said. "You don't have to say anything. I feel it every day, and especially when you're angry."

Sephiroth blinked. "What?"

"You wouldn't get so mad if you didn't care." She touched his chest. "It's frightening, but when you stop losing your temper on my behalf, that's when I'll start to worry. I've come to rely on your possessiveness."

Sephiroth snorted. "How wonderful."

Toriko smiled and looked up at him. "Let's go for a walk in the park, Father. The weather won't be nice for much longer."

"I like that idea," Sephiroth said, rising to his feet. "Maybe we'll get some cider afterwards."

"That sounds nice."

"Doesn't it?" Sephiroth wrapped his fingers lightly around hers. "We could use some nice."

"We certainly could."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I know y'all love the WAFF in the previous version of this chapter, but I think this one's better for Seph's persisting emotional stuntedness and Toriko's need for security, which leads her to justifying Sephiroth's quirks. It's only been two years, not nearly enough time to soften the rigid twists that tell them both they're not allowed to be emotionally vulnerable around each other.

As per I stated in the last chapter, I will wait a week and see which chapter has more reviews; that version will then be the one to stay up. Why do I do this? Well, everyone's used to the last one, but I like this version better. And in the spirit of the upcoming elections, let the voting begin!

/\/\/\/\/\


	107. Chapter 97

Sorry for the long hiatus. I was in China.

And while most people like the second version of Ch. 96, I'm still keeping the first one up because others like the WAFF. I will, however, mark it so new readers know that it's not canon.

And now…

Put Your Lights On

12.06.06

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Ninety-Seven

/\/\/\/\/\

Zack took a deep breath, flexing his hands lightly. G stood on the opposite end of the room, a good thirty feet away, and rolled an egg between his fingers. All around Zack, shattered eggshells and dripping yolk spattered the floor.

"Ready?" G held up the egg.

"Just throw the damn thing already, I want to get out here."

The exercise was simple. After ten weeks in a Process Tank and two more accustoming himself to his new strength levels, Zack was supposed to be able to catch an egg before he left the Deepground complex. It was singularly the most retarded test Zack had ever undertaken, but as a First-Class SOLDIER he had to maintain perfect control over his body at all times—even a warm handshake could be disastrous, and eggs were more fragile than hands.

G pitched the egg underhand, slow and easy in a long arc. Zack steeled himself. Catching the egg was never a problem for him, but he could never stop the reflexive grabbing motion that made him crack the egg—crush it, actually—in his hands. Using both hands was against the rules. The egg, twirling lightly through the air, sailed languidly toward him. Zack reached out with his right hand, his palm tilted slightly toward the floor. He had this down to a _science_.

The egg grazed his fingertips and slid into the curve of his hand, landing securely in his palm. Zack turned his hand and drew his arm back, absorbing the (light, but this was an egg after all) impact to keep the precious bundle as safe as possible. He locked his hand, willing the small muscles to freeze in place even as he winced in preparation for the feeling of yolk and eggshell spilling through his fingers.

He heard a crack, but it was not the eggshell breaking. Zack looked up as G clapped a second time, his leatherclad hands booming in the empty practice room. Zack grinned and held up the egg, shaking it lightly.

"Ha-ha," he said. "I win."

"And now you're free," G said, waving at him. "Enjoy. And change your clothes. It looks like—"

"A chicken exploded on me?"

"No, that you got on the wrong side of a fast-food cook." G looked at him strangely. "Where did you get a chicken from?"

Zack shrugged and turned around, tossing the egg up and down. "See you later," he said, and sudden pitched the egg across the room, slinging it behind his back with a "Huttah!"

G caught it easily and tucked it into his pocket. Zack rather hoped he'd forget about it and sit down. His opinion of the man hadn't improved much during his tenure in Deepground, though Zack had to own he was a great deal more compassionate than any other MilSci coat that he'd met before. G had, however, an aura of creepiness that just rubbed Zack the wrong way.

Zack changed into non-eggy clothes and left Deepground in the early afternoon, bounding up the stairs two at a time with a grin on his face. Sun, fresh air, being able to tell the difference between night and day! At that moment, Zack didn't particularly care if it was freezing, just so long as he was out of that Mako-filled hole in the ground. Luckily, it was balmy outside and Zack took a moment to inhale deeply. Air—nonfiltered air, even with Midgar smog—had never smelled so sweet. After enjoying the scents of the outdoors and the warmth of natural sunlight for a few minutes, Zack decided he'd better check in with Dulles. Officers got kinda pissy if you didn't let them know where you were.

Some inquiries led him down to the training rooms, and Zack heard the thunderous crashing of steel on steel even before he opened the door to Training Room 3. It was the uneven room, arguably one of the most dangerous since even a First Class SOLDIER could break his leg if he didn't step carefully. Zack wondered who the lucky combatant was today as he kicked the door a couple times to make the people inside aware of him and then slowly, cautiously, opened it.

"Cappy?" He called, poking his head inside.

"Bing!" Dulles' voice came from somewhere near the ceiling. Zack looked up just in time to see the man leaping from the near corner, springing at something in the opposite side of the room. Dulles twisted around to look at him, an acrobatic maneuver that required him to whirl his swords both for balance and defense. "You're alive!"

"Sure am, sir!" Zack grinned.

"Zack!" Squealed a familiar voice. Zack stared as Toriko popped up from one of the artificial cliffs, her eyes glowing with joy. "You're all better!"

"What are you doing in Room 3 already?" Zack squawked. "You were in Room 4 last time!"

"It's been a little over two months," Dulles said, landing on one of cliffs and looking at him. "What, they didn't tell you?"

Zack blinked and for a few moments, opened and closed his mouth soundlessly. Then he laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "Ah, it's always like this. Time just seems to melt away."

"Your eyes are much brighter," Toriko noted, leaping off the cliff and trotting toward him. She was in her regular training clothes, just gray sweats and a tee shirt, but Zack was surprised at how, well... Uh...

"_Shit, Daddy'd better start locking her in the house pretty soon. Damn."_

"They kinda do that after you've been in a Process tank for a while," Zack said, shaking off his shock.

"Father mentioned something of the kind," Toriko said, stopping in front of him. In a very girlish manner, she clasped her hands behind her and swung slightly from side to side, regarding him through her eyelashes. The swords she had at her back rather ruined the image of innocent cuteness, though. "I'm glad you're back."

"Awww, aren't you the little sweetie pie?" Zack ruffled her hair, which was hot and slightly sticky with sweat. A look of consternation flashed across her face and Zack had to suppress a snicker when he realized that she definitely did not want to be seen as a 'little' anything, at least not by him. He almost wanted to hug her to take out the sting, but that just wouldn't be nice. Still with his hand on her head, he looked at Dulles. "Anything you want me to do, sir?"

"You check in with the bureaucrats yet?" When Zack shook his head, Dulles waved one of his swords in the general direction of the Garrison offices. "They need to know you're back. Go see 'em."

"Yessir." Zack patted Toriko's head. "See ya 'round, kiddo."

"Are you going to be training me again?" She asked, looking at him hopefully.

Zack looked at her—sticky, somewhat hot, breathing a little hard from the exercise—and then at Dulles, who looked the same as always. "Ah," Zack said, turning back to her. "Maybe. Cappy seems to be a better match for you right now. As I recall, the last couple of times we sparred, you were kind of kicking my butt."

Toriko looked distraught, though she managed to hide her disappointment quite well. "...oh." She said. "But...surely there's something else...you could teach me?"

"_I reeeeeally hope that was not innuendo."_ Zack smiled as brightly as he could. "I'll talk to your dad," he said. "And he can decide if you stay with Cappy or me. Okay?"

"...Okay." Toriko looked disgruntled. Zack had to stop himself from laughing. She was so cute, in that little fuzzy animal sort of way. Her unguarded expressions were just priceless. "Um…see you later."

"You too." Zack waved at Dulles and then left.

The offices Zack had to check in at were on the third floor and clear across the fort. Zack set off for them at a brisk trot, aware of his speed; the impulse to run was very high right now, but that was just new strength talking. It was always like this, moving up from one Class to another, though the giddy feeling of invincibility was somewhat stronger than Zack remembered from his prior promotions. As a First Classer, he felt like he could jump right over the Garrison walls right now, and do it without breaking a sweat. Zack almost turned around to do just that when a flash of silver caught his eye.

­_"No way,"_ Zack thought, slowing and turning to look better at the spot of paleness across the yard. _"Never mind, it _is _him. What's he doing here? Oh...duh. He's here to pick up Toriko. Way to brainfart, man."_

Zack waved. Sephiroth, brushing his silver hair out of his eyes, waved back, and Zack hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, rocking back and forth on his heels as his CO approached.

"You're looking fit," Sephiroth said by way of greeting, looking him up and down in a very dispassionate, only mildly interested sort of way. Zack twitched, suddenly feeling hot under the collar. What the fuck? He wasn't gay.

"Thanks," Zack said, thankful his voice didn't crack. "And, uh... Thanks. For..." He gestured at his shoulder, where the flesh had sealed with only the thinnest of scar-lines. "You know. Saving my life."

"You're welcome," Sephiroth said, looking at him bemusedly.

"I—" Zack stopped talking. He had been about to say, "I don't know how I can repay you," except that he'd suddenly remembered Sephiroth saying something like "I like you" before putting him in a tank. With any other officer, Zack wouldn't have cared, but this was Sephiroth of the much-speculated gayness and purportedly predatory tendencies. A statement like "I don't know how I can repay you" could open up a whole lot of doors Zack didn't know how to close. He felt himself turning red and belatedly realized that Toriko had probably been feeling like this when she'd been talking to him. With one major difference, though, since Zack didn't like Sephiroth like that. Nooooo way. Nope. He liked the ladies, yes he did.

"Er...uh...blah, I can't talk right now." Zack shook his head. "Bleah, bleah. Okay, much better."

"Do you need a moment?" Sephiroth asked solicitously.

"I think I do." Zack saluted. "Good to see you, sir."

Sephiroth just chuckled and left. As soon as he disappeared through the door leading to the training rooms, Zack furiously rubbed his arms to get rid of the creepy feelings pricking his skin. What the hell was going on? What was wrong with him? He'd never frozen up like before, not for girls or boys or anyone! Wait a minute, he'd never frozen up for boys before.

"_Am I turning gay or something?"_

The thought was seriously disturbing. Zack didn't mind gay people, so long as they left him alone, and he liked girls, he really did. But...but...

"Gah!" Zack hit his head a couple times (neither the impacts nor his head didn't feel any harder than normal; he was the same unto himself). "Stop thinking, stop! Gah! Go report in. And stop thinking."

He looked around to make sure no one had seen him talking to himself before trotting off to do just that.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Why did I do this to Zack? Because I could. It's fun, it's easy, and…I like making boys squirm. I do. How else can you explain me running after one poor guy with mousse and makeup, going, "I'M GONNA MAKE YOU PRETTY!!!" ? Seriously. It happened. :D And I did, by the way.

/\/\/\/\/\


	108. Shred Bonus

Just yesterday, a Devil May Cry fanfic was posted. It was PYLO word for word. I tell you now, I've never been so fucking enraged in my life. Everything Toriko feels here, that's what happened to me. After all, I poured joint deterioration, the early stages of carpal tunnel, and many sleepless nights into this thing, and some chickenfucker insults my work and my intelligence by "writing" their fic. God. 

Arileo, who brought this to my attention first, gets a special cameo as my small way of saying "thank you" for being a good person. Special shoutouts to Shido, Slocketman, Lady Ashari, Drywater, Stop This Insanity, Kitty Kiynsky, and pbjsandwich for calling the person out. 

As it is with most things, there is a reasonable explanation for all this. The person in question had had his account hacked and a so-called friend of his ripped my story there. As passwords and such are easily stolen, I'm going to believe this happened. We all come onto because we like to write, and unfortunately, some people choose to "write" this way. It's sad, but we do our part by reporting to administrators and the authors in question. Unfortunately, this can rapidly deteriorate into a mudslinging contest, which I hope will not happen here. I'm deeply touched by everyone's support and I extend my sympathies to the abused author. 

However, the Shred Bonus is staying up as a warning to anyone who even thinks of doing this to me or anyone, anywhere, ever again. 

PYLO Shred Bonus!

/\/\/\/\/\

PYLO (Put Your Lights On) is a fanfiction by kleptomaniac0, which therefore by definition mean that the FFVII characters do not belong to the author and ergo do not garner any profit for said person. If sued, the author will simultaneously freeze and combust. This will result in a local hailstorm of flaming comets. Therefore... Yeah, you get the picture.

/\/\/\/\/\

The moral of the story is don't fuck with the Shin-Ra.

/\/\/\/\/\

Toriko looked at the paper on her left. It was a twelve-page science paper, a brief assignment on the history of modern genetics. Toriko, who enjoyed a closet fondness for science, had done a lot of research to make the paper the best it could possibly be. She wasn't a particularly gifted writer, but time in Hojo's lab had made her writing especially suited to this subject, and her teacher had loved the paper...

"It's just that it's so…" Mr. Arileo looked acutely uncomfortable. Toriko didn't blame him. No one called the Shin-Ra out on anything they did wrong or even supposedly wrong, but Arileo was one of those super-conscientious people who did their duty no matter what it cost them. Toriko rather liked him. "Well..."

Rather than go on, Arileo tapped the paper on Toriko's right. She'd already glanced at it. It was also a twelve-page science paper about the history of modern genetics. It was also very well researched.

It was also copied word-by-word from her own.

Toriko had assessed this all in the first few seconds the papers had touched her hand, and she was fighting a maelstrom of feelings. The first emotion had been pure, simple rage. How dare someone do this to her? She'd put a lot of effort into that paper. She'd taken sheaves of notes, painstakingly footnoted and parenthetically referenced everything, had even gone to talk to geneticists—not Hojo, some others in the MilSci department—and some _cunt_ was stealing all her hard work for a grade! More than that, the cunt was going be believed because she was older, and automatically supposed to be able to write a smarter paper. She looked up at Mr. Arileo, her teeth clenching as she waited for him to say those words.

Instead his expression was soft, and he said, "I just thought you should know."

Toriko blinked. She took a deep breath, her temper smoldering to more manageable levels. "Thank you very much," she said, in the most polite voice she could manage. "Really. Thank you."

"I've already had a talk with Miss Haaz," Mr. Arileo said, straightening his glasses. There was no point in hiding the name; it was right on the cover page of the paper, after all. "And she'll be going up before the disciplinary committee in a couple days."

"I see. Thank you." Toriko handed Mr. Arileo back Miss Haaz's paper. Liza Haaz; she was a four point oh student, popular and well-liked. Toriko couldn't imagine why she'd copy off Toriko's paper, though she knew how. Toriko used the common computer lab to type up her papers, and more often than not she didn't log out of her student account when she finished her things. It made her wonder who else had copied her work, if there were more out there.

_"All the more to punish."_

Toriko did not take pride in very much. She knew her fighting skills were good, but the only joy she derived from that was when Sephiroth told her he was pleased or proud. School was basically a sleepwalk. She kept too much from Meryl to be really comfortable calling the girl her best friend. This science paper had been the only thing in a long time she'd really taken pleasure in. There was a sort of joy to researching and writing, to finding out brand new things and sharing the excitement with others.

And now someone had cheapened her effort for a grade. Liza Haaz did not need this paper for a grade. She was a perfectly good writer; she made top marks in English and had even been published in several short-story magazines. She should have had no problem typing a science paper.

Toriko left Mr. Arileo's office, still holding both papers, and stood out in the hall, closing her eyes. Rage was coursing through her veins, making her scalp go tight and prickly with suppressed violence. Her hands trembled with homicidal urges. Curiously her mind was cold, almost calculating. Sephiroth noticed the subtle chilling in her thought processes and asked her what was wrong. Toriko told him, and was surprised at his reaction.

_"I had no idea you were that fine of a writer."_

_"What!?"_

_"Well, plagiarism is the highest form of praise."_ He paused, and added, _"If also the most insulting. What's this girl's name?"_

Toriko detected a hint of violence in her father's mental voice. Knowing full well what he was capable of, she took steps to curb his fury. _"Don't worry, Father. I'll take care of it."_

She was striding down the hall now, her mind strengthened by her anger and spurred on by her father, her wrathful watchful father, crouching in her mind. She knew what Liza Haaz looked like and moreover, knew the feel of the girl's mind; Liza didn't like Toriko much and often thought nasty thoughts about her. Toriko knew Liza was in English class right now, and she headed for the girl's bathroom. Stepping into a stall, Toriko took a deep breath and brushed Liza's mind.

_"You need to go to the bathroom."_

As it so happened, the girl actually _did_ need to go to the bathroom, so Liza came to the loo with a minimum of encouragement. Toriko gently prodded the girl to come to her stall, while at the same time removing one of her mother's gifts, a peony-headed hairpin. The enameled head told Toriko that the particular substance coating the end of this bodkin was meant to paralyze, and that suited Toriko just fine.

The stall door swung open and Liza let out a small scream, leaping back and almost falling when she saw Toriko standing inside. "Jesus Christ!" She exclaimed, clapping her hand over her heart. "What—"

Without preamble Toriko stabbed her in the chest. She didn't really think, she just stabbed, but training with Nanashi directed her to slide the pin under Liza's shirt and to an odd place in the body where there were no organs to puncture, just empty space between the viscera. Liza stiffened as the fast-acting drug did its work and Toriko grabbed the girl by the front of her shirt as she fell, her legs turning to jelly. She pulled the girl into the stall and shut the door, locking it behind them.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Liza," Toriko said quietly. She could have shouted, she certainly felt angry enough to, but a quiet, deliberate voice seemed better. Liza's eyes widened to show their whites all around. Clearly she knew what this was about. "Very, very disappointed. You know, you could have asked for help with that paper. You could have asked _me._ I wouldn't have minded giving you some pointers, maybe some research material. I know you don't like me very much, but such...disrespect..."

Toriko wanted to say more. She wanted to scare the girl so bad that she pissed herself, but her body seemed to take over and Toriko instead pinched the underside of Liza's arm. The skin was sensitive, and Toriko twisted viciously. Though Liza did not react, Toriko sensed the flare of pain in her mind.

_"The stomach,"_ Sephiroth suggested quietly. Toriko could see him in her mind, his eyes blazing like fire. _"Control your strength, and she won't even bruise."_

Toriko thought about Seishi, and their tenure on the streets. _"I know how not to leave bruises."_

And she didn't. She didn't have to. The nice thing about taking biology and studying anatomy as part of her research paper was that Toriko knew what nerve centers were, and also where they were. Making judicious use of her strength, she quietly, deliberately pressed the first ribs, the brachial plexuses, the styloid and mastoid processes, until all those things were at the point of breaking and Liza was screaming inside her head with pain and terror. Amazing what a little knowledge of anatomy could do, Toriko thought as she stared, bright-eyed, into Liza's terrified face. Liza's body trembled and occasionally jerked, but Seishi's poison was quite effective, and not a squeak escaped the girl's lips. Sephiroth chuckled, and his amusement made Toriko take Liza's head between her hands. Slowly, she began to apply pressure.

_"Arrogant, self-serving bitch."_ Toriko thought coldly. _"You clearly have no regard for the hard work of others. Even if you do and this was just a moment of weakness, you let your pride and panic get the better of you. I don't care if you felt guilty then, if you're repenting now. Sorrow does not stay punishment."_

She felt the sutures in Liza's head groan—the girl's skull was definitely going to crack if she didn't let go. Toriko let the girl drop into the toilet, Liza's body shielding her from the spray, and Toriko retrieved her hairpin. She spun her hair into its now customary twist and repinned it in place. Sephiroth was almost purring.

_"It's so nice,"_ she heard him thinking, _"That you're beginning to take care of yourself."_

_"It's what we were always shooting for, wasn't it?"_ Toriko replied in the same silky tone. Her head still buzzed pleasantly with anger.

"I hope we don't have to repeat this," Toriko said, touching the bathroom stall's door. "For your sake. Father is... Nowhere near as forgiving as I am. And I hope your discretion is better than your common sense..."

Then she left. Liza would not bleed bad enough to die, and it would serve as a warning to any others who thought about stealing her work. Liza was too terrified of her to press any charges, or even think about her right now. Toriko smiled, tasting the addictive pleasure of cruelty for the first time. It was high time she came into her right, she thought in bemusement: she was the child of conquerors.

Meanwhile, Sephiroth chuckled and faded into the background.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Please keep in mind what I said earlier. This conflict has been resolved and I've left names out on purpose, so please don't look for trouble. 

Nevertheless, if I catch the original idiot, I'm going to go to town on that fucker. I can do everything described here and more.


	109. Chapter 98

Put Your Lights On

2.12.07

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Ninety-Eight

/\/\/\/\/\

Tseng knocked on the door while Reno looked around, more to admire the surroundings than to check for threats. As a Shin-Ra son—an adopted Shin-Ra son, anyway—Sephiroth lived accordingly and every floor of his posh apartment building had been covered with marble and brass inlays, with the doors being made of dark, sumptuous woods from lands far away. Normally the Turks didn't bother the Executives at their private residences, but the General had been AWOL for about two weeks now and the President was getting more than a little annoyed. Reno glanced at Rude, who was as stoic as always.

"Think he's in?" Reno asked, nodding at the door.

"Maybe." Rude said. "He doesn't have anywhere else to go."

Considering how elusive the General had been, Reno did not expect the door to open at all. But open it did, though it revealed a rather harried and mussed Toriko. Reno gaped. Normally serene and put-togther, Toriko now looked at them with shadowed eyes, her gray-green irises subdued with fatigue. Her skin was pulled a little more tightly over her bones, making Reno think she hadn't eaten well in a while. Her clothes were thin and worn, obviously castoffs from the thrift store—Reno had never seen her in something so poor-looking. Her hair was swept under its usual headscarf, but not in a casual or fashionable way; it was obviously meant to keep her hair out of her eyes, but lank locks escaped the gray kerchief to make her look even more tired. Without preamble she pulled Tseng and Rude inside, and the next second her strong little hand was around Reno's wrist, yanking him into the apartment. She shut the door behind all three of them and spun around with a "Shhh," her finger over her lips in the universal sign of silence.

"What's going on?" Reno asked in a whisper.

"Who's there?" Roared a hoarse voice from somewhere inside the apartment. Reno about jumped out of his skin.

Toriko muttered what sounded like a curse before calling, "It's the Turks, Father."

"Tell them to go away!"

"Sir?" Tseng frowned in the direction of the voice. "Are you alright?"

"No. Now go away."

Reno looked at Toriko, who sighed and said tiredly, "Father's not feeling very well."

"Flu?" Rude asked.

Toriko shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Tinnitus."

"What?" Reno frowned.

"Ringing in the ears," Tseng said, looking at Toriko. "He's laid up because of that?"

"When it's accompanied by a migraine, yes." Toriko rubbed her face.

Reno looked at her closely, but Rude was the one who voiced the question on both their minds. "Have you been taking care of him this entire time?"

"I've been trying to." She dropped her hands from her face, and Reno was stunned to see tears in her eyes. "Nothing seems to make it better," she said, trying to control her voice.

"He should see a doctor," Rude said, looking at her and frowning.

"He won't go," Toriko said, swallowing hard. "He hates doctors."

And just like that, Toriko began crying. She didn't wail or sob, but the tears rolled down her face like little pearls, and Reno saw, crystal clear, how frustrated and lonely she must have been, how helpless she must have felt.

"It's alright," Rude said, leaning down to pat her on the head. She sniffled and looked at him as he stroked her hair. "It's going to be okay."

Tseng leaned into the hall. "Sir, did you know SOLDIERS are actually very vulnerable to cancer? It's the accelerated healing rate. It makes any kind of cancer grow out of control, and the SOLDIERS who get it usually die in a month or less. Also sir, there's a certain kind of cancer that causes ringing in the ears and migraines."

There was a pause. Then Reno heard the sound of a six-foot man hauling himself laboriously out of bed, dragging his sheets with him, and walking slowly down the hall. When he appeared in the living room, Reno jaw dropped.

"You look like shit," he said, staring.

Sephiroth only grunted. But it was true, he did look like shit. His long silver hair was matted and mussed, looking dull and almost brassy, and the glow of his Mako eyes seemed clouded. He was hunched over, wrapped in a large blanket, and his eyes were red-rimmed with insomnia. Abnormally pale, he looked like hell warmed over.

"Can't sleep," he said as everyone stared at him. His voice was ragged, a testament to his exhaustion. "Can't rest. You think it's cancer?"

"Of the auditory nerve, maybe." Tseng said, lacing his hands behind his back. "Whatever it is, you need professional help. Your daughter's not equipped to take care of you when you're like this."

Sephiroth looked at Toriko, who only sniffled and looked away. Reno had to clench his jaw against a sudden, powerful flare of resentment for a man he normally respected, though not like. How could he work Toriko so hard like this? Reno bet she hadn't even been going to school, and she looked just as terrible as he did.

Sephiroth rubbed his temples, his hands still wrapped in the folds of his blanket. He really did not look well. "...The only doctor I can see is Hojo," he said finally. "Can you begin to understand why I don't want to go there?"

"Certainly, sir," Tseng said. "But in this case, you really should."

"No. It's not safe."

"What's not safe?"

"She's not safe." Sephiroth nodded at Toriko. "I won't be around when I'm at the doctor's."

"I'll be fine, Father." Toriko said.

He shook his head. "You just want to get away from me for a while. That's exactly what he's waiting for. While I'm on the table and he's fondling my brain, you're going to get tranked and yanked because I won't be there to protect you."

"I'll hide someplace," Toriko said. "Please, Father, you should see a professional."

Sephiroth laughed in a short, ugly bark. "Hojo is not a professional."

"Then shall I call G?"

"NO. I'm not going to owe him anything if I have to."

"Sir, we're taking you to see Hojo," Tseng said firmly. "And Toriko will be fine. We'll be watching over her."

"That's exactly the problem," Sephiroth said in a low voice. "Who's to say you won't toss her into Hojo's hands as soon as I'm under? As soon as you get different orders?"

There was a long pause. Sephiroth laughed again.

"That's exactly what I thought," he said, and sat down on the couch. "I'm staying right here."

"Father, what if it _is_ cancer?" Toriko pressed. "You should get it treated..."

"There's no way to get rid of a cancer that grows that quickly," Sephiroth said darkly. "It could very well be that I will soon die. Toriko, get me some paper. I'm going to write a will."

"You are not of sound mind and body right now, so I don't think it'll be binding," Toriko said, her voice sharpening. "Please, Father—go see Hojo."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"For me?"

"That's the reason I'm not going in the first place," Sephiroth said reasonably, or as reasonably as a man who apparently had not slept for two weeks could speak. "I'm watching over you."

Toriko looked like she was about to cry again. Reno could see that she was at the end of her rope, physically and mentally exhausted by taking care of a man who, by all rights, should have been more than capable of taking care of himself. Unfortunately, whatever he had was driving him crazy and seriously impairing his common sense.

"He's_ the one who needs to be tranked and yanked..."_

Toriko sighed quaveringly, seemingly resigning herself to her fate. Then she tilted her head back, opened her mouth and began screaming. Reno almost leapt out of his skin for the second time that day, but the effect on Sephiroth—whose hearing was sensitive as only a SOLDIER'S could be—was astounding.

"AUGH!" Sephiroth clapped his hands over his ears, shutting his eyes in pain. He curled into a ball, clutching his head as Toriko shrieked in a range that could probably shatter glass. "Stop! Stop!"

"Go!" She screamed. "See! Hojo!"

"No!"

Reno had to clap his own hands over his ears as Toriko went a half note higher, hitting a pitch that was ever so slightly off-key. The effect was maddening. Reno couldn't even begin to imagine what it was doing to Sephiroth. Rude stuffed his fingers in his ears while Tseng covered his with his palms.

"STOP!" Sephiroth roared, making the air vibrate with his rage. However, as impressive as his baritone bellow was, Toriko's scream was ten times more piercing and also required much less air to produce. Sephiroth began turning red, and then purple, as Toriko continued screaming. It was a fascinating process to watch.

"GO SEE A DOCTOR!" Toriko shrilled. Her face was also changing colors, turning from a bright red to a deeper apoplectic shade. Apparently she'd just about had enough. Reno didn't blame her at all, though he wished she'd shut up. "GO SEE A DOCTOR NOW!"

"I...said...NO!"

Toriko ran out of air, gasping, and took another breath. But before she could shriek, Sephiroth lunged off the couch and Reno yelled in horror as he crossed the room in a single bound, his hands latching his daughter's neck. Toriko's eyes went huge in sudden terror.

"Stop." Sephiroth snarled in a low voice. "Screaming."

"Go see Hojo," she gasped.

"I already told you—"

"Sir, stop!" Tseng ran over, grabbing Sephiroth's arm. "Look at yourself! Think of what you're doing!"

Reno whipped out his electro-mag rod and switched it on. He was of more than half a mind to jam it into Sephiroth's bad place if he didn't let go of Toriko's neck RIGHT NOW when Rude laid a hand on his shoulder, silently warning him to stay put. A tense three seconds passed before Sephiroth released his daughter, and Toriko took a step back, rubbing her neck. The skin was red, but not bruised—apparently Sephiroth hadn't applied any pressure.

"I..." Sephiroth took a step back, hunching into himself. "I'll go see Hojo. Tori, stay with the Tuestis for the time being. I'll collect you when I'm...better."

"Yes, Father." Toriko nodded. "I will go pack a bag."

"I'll go take a shower." Sephiroth raked his hand through his hair. "I'm not going to the lab looking like this. He'd throw me in a tank if he's not going to already."

"Reno, take Toriko to Mr. Tuesti's place," Tseng said. "Rude and I will drive the General."

"Sure thing, boss."

The two of them disappeared into the recesses of the apartment. Reno switched off his EMR and let out a long, explosive hiss of anger. Rude nodded knowingly at him while Tseng rubbed his temples.

_­-HATE him- _Reno signed furiously. _–what she sees in him-_

_-little girls love their fathers-_ Tseng signed back tiredly.

Reno didn't buy that. No little girl should love a father like that. _–needs to die!-_

_-and you'll do it?-_ Surprisingly the cold shot came from Rude, who looked at him with steely eyes through his sunglasses. _–no harm done, let it lie-_

_-could hurt her, kill her!-_

_-not our problem- _Tseng signed reluctantly. _–not unless she asks, and even then-_

Reno furiously whipped up both hands in a pair of signs that needed no translation.

It was then that Toriko came back into the room. She looked at Reno curiously for a moment before her eyes lit up with understanding, and she just smiled. Reno had to stop himself from reaching out and choking her himself.

"Let's go," she said. "Reno, you're going to tell Mr. Tuesti that Father's out of town on business, okay?"

Reno's mouth twisted. "...Sure." He said tightly. ­_"I'd rather say he's an abusive bastard..._"

"We will leave now then," she said. Looking at Rude and Tseng, she said, "Please tell my father that in order to take care of me, he must first take care of himself. Also that I can take care of myself too."

"I think he'd disagree on the last," Tseng said. "But we will pass the message along."

"Thank you." She turned to Reno and smiled again. "Well?"

Reno whipped around in disgust and stalked out of the apartment. Toriko followed serenely in his wake.

"You really piss me off sometimes," Reno snapped as soon as they were out of the apartment building. Since the Turks had arrived in a single car and that was presumably being used to drive the General to the Building, Reno and Toriko would walk and take the subway to the Tuesti home. "How can you just forgive him like that?"

"What else can I do?" Toriko asked, looking up at him in genuine surprise.

"I don't know," Reno said sarcastically. "Get mad? Fight back?"

"To what end? Father's much stronger than I am, and in certain aspects much less mature."

"What?" Reno stared.

"Father is emotionally insecure," Toriko said. "He tends to react with violence where I'm concerned. I don't mind if it's for my benefit, but other times—"

"Has it occurred to you he could KILL you if he hit you hard enough?"

"Yes, but any parent could kill any child with a hard enough blow." And here Toriko smiled the singularly most serene, most freaky smile Reno had ever seen. "Thankfully, I have the training to dodge, or at least block such a blow, and my body is strong enough to take some small beating."

"It should not take beating at all!" Reno exploded.

"Reno, please. We are in public."

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" Reno threw his hands into the air. "Why are you—"

"I don't expect you to understand," Toriko said, looking down at the ground. "Truly, I don't really understand either. All I know is that sometimes he honestly can't control himself."

"That's not an excuse!"

"No, it's not. But then again, where else can I go?"

A million answers flew to Reno's mind, but Toriko's voice—the subtly downtrodden tone, the quiet resignation—made him realize that even if he told her where to run, she wouldn't even take a step. Sephiroth had some kind of hold on her that just wouldn't break, maybe not for as long as he was alive.

So Reno shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to swallow his bitterness as Toriko walked down the apartment building's steps, heading toward the subway. He wished Turks weren't required to live in apartments right in the Building, if only to give Toriko somewhere to flee to. He felt the scar under his tattoo burn with the memory of a man who was better off dead.

_"Cheer up, Reno,"_ he thought to himself, and smiled. _"Maybe the brain surgery will go wrong."_

-.-.-.-

Author's note:

AAAAUGH.

I typed the chapter after this before this, but then realized that this chapter had to happen first to make things in the next one make sense. Got it? Bleah. Basically what I am trying to say is that I've been sitting in front of a computer for about 9 hours...

And oh yes. That I'm BACK.

:D

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, after all, and the plagiarism deal was…bah. Life has its ups and downs. I'd like to take this moment to thank everyone who put the beatdown on that plagiarizing jerk—Shido, Slocketman, Lady Ashari, Drywater, Stop this insanity, Kitty Kyinsky, pbjsandwich, and a special shoutout to Arileo who informed me via dA what was happening in the first place. I'm so lucky to have all of you watching out for me.

And I must apologize about the long hiatus. What I initially wanted to type didn't make sense, what did make sense I didn't want to type, and it wasn't until I had a brainstorming session with Captain Linza/Lynza (isn't she awesome?) that I finally figured out where to go next. So REJOICE! Weekly PYLO goodness will resume.

-.-.-.-


	110. Chapter 99

Put Your Lights On

2.12.07

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter Ninety-Nine

/\/\/\/\/\

In his private office, Hojo looked over the printouts detailing the innermost workings of Sephiroth's body, and frowned. The changes were small but unmistakable, and despite his best interventions they were only getting faster. Sephiroth's Jenova cell count was astronomical, having increased another 20 percent in a mere two years: he had less than half of his original DNA left, with the rest having spontaneously mutated to more closely resemble the original Jenova specimen. What exactly this meant still wasn't clear, but Hojo was certain it wasn't good.

Still, that didn't stop him from being excited about it.

Hojo set aside Sephiroth's sheets for a moment and took a look at Awe's. At long last the Jenova cells injections—pure samples of the original specimen, carefully measured to bring her J-cell count to the same level as her father's—were beginning to have some kind of effect on her. Apparently triggered by the inevitable production of estrogen and progesterone, the J-cells were finally binding to her original DNA, modifying the code in nearly the same way as her father's.

Again, Hojo wondered what this meant. The two of them were practically indistinguishable from normal humans, externally at least, and nothing so extreme as the development of new organs or muscles had thus occurred. Hojo itched to observe them on the operating table, but Sephiroth had ignored all his pointed suggestions to bring his daughter back to the lab and had intimated more than once that if Hojo kept bothering him, he wouldn't even be back for a biannual exam.

Hojo heard the door opening and, looked up to see Sephiroth entering the office, his normally stoic face shockingly gray and haggard. Tseng and Rude flanked him, silent and for all intents and purposes, invisible. Yet Hojo did not miss how subtly they blocked the door, a sign as clear as any that though Sephiroth was here, he was not here willingly. Hojo unabashedly gaped.

"This is a surprise," he said after a moment, standing up behind his desk. He set the papers with Sephiroth and Awe's data on the desk; only he knew what they were, as well as how to read them. He had no fears about Sephiroth looking down and realizing what they were.

"This is also a special circumstance," Sephiroth said, closing the door behind him. His voice sounded hoarse, as if he'd been fighting a cold. Interesting, considering how rarely the man got sick. "Most of the time I don't have a reason to come."

Hojo tilted his head. "Most of the time?" He repeated. "What makes this time different, then?"

"Tinnitus."

"Ringing in the ears?" Hojo's brows lifted. "You're willing to come to the lab because of _that?_"

"It's very annoying," Sephiroth said flatly.

"I can imagine. Did you think of that?"

"What?"

"That you might be imagining it?"

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed, the Mako glow intensifying. "It's a high-pitched noise that no one else can hear," he said. "Not other SOLDIERS or even Toriko. It follows me around all the time, never changing in volume or pitch. At this point I'm willing to accept that it's all in my head, but I am _certainly_ not imagining things."

"How long have you been having this problem?" Hojo asked, intrigued despite the apparent ordinariness of the problem.

"Two weeks."

"Two _weeks?_ And you didn't think to see me before that?"

Sephiroth just gave him a _look_ that made Hojo realize Sephiroth didn't think to see him under any circumstances and that in fact, he was only here because he had to be. Quietly Tseng and Rude, apparently satisfied that Sephiroth wouldn't make a break for it, left the office.

"What else can you tell me about the problem?" Hojo asked, changing the subject.

"Nothing more than what I've already said," Sephiroth said, rubbing his temples. He was dressed neatly as always, but the signs of exhaustion—red-rimmed eyes, slightly slumped posture—were very clear to Hojo. "It started two months ago, doesn't change in pitch or volume, never stops, and no one else can hear it."

"You mentioned Toriko couldn't hear this noise," Hojo said, and saw something flash across Sephiroth's eyes. "Why her?"

"She's... The closest thing to me around," Sephiroth said slowly, reluctantly. "I thought if the noise were due to our...uniqueness, she might be hearing it too."

"But she doesn't, hmm?"

"Not one bit."

Hojo thought about the printouts, and Sephiroth's increasing J-cell count. It was entirely possible that he'd crossed some kind of threshold and was paying the price, so to speak. Maybe some kind of physical change was taking place in the brain.

"_But what exactly does that mean? Surely it could not be the Reunion theory in play... He's on the other side of the globe from the main specimen, and anyway there's no reasonable way for his cells to communicate with its..."_

Then for no reason he could logically discern, Hojo suddenly remembered the peculiar brainwaves the chips in Sephiroth and Awe's heads had been recording, and how Toriko had mysteriously managed to be in the right place at exactly the right time during the car-bombing incident... He also remembered the various incidents of exploding equipment, spontaneous combustion, and flying objects that had happened during both their tenures in the lab. As the pieces came falling together in a higgledy-piggledy pile, Hojo almost burst out laughing.

"_Telepathy? Telekinesis? That's ridiculous. Completely impossible. There must be some other explanation..."_

But he kept the idea nonetheless.

"Where are the headaches?" Hojo asked, fully afire with interest now. "And for that matter, where is the noise?"

"In my head," Sephiroth said in annoyance.

"Be more specific, boy. _Where_ in your head?"

"In the center," Sephiroth snapped. "Between my eyes, my ears, and the back of my head."

"The headache or the sound?"

"Both! Aren't you listening?"

Hojo made a mental note that apparently the noise was having a detrimental effect on Sephiroth's already unstable personality. "And the sound causes the headache?"

"Seeing as I didn't have the latter until I had the former, I'd say so." Sephiroth rubbed his temples. "Listen, Hojo. It's at the point where I'm willing to let you saw my head open if it'll just make the damn thing go away."

Hojo goggled. "That bad, is it?" He said after a moment of stunned silence.

"You have no idea."

Hojo thought for a second. "As much as it pains me to admit it," he said, "my specialty is not neuroscience. I'm going to get one of the other scientists. Stay put."

Now it was Sephiroth's turn to stare at him. "You're going to get a specialist?"

"As unbelievable as it may seem," Hojo said dryly.

"There's something really wrong with me, isn't there?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

Leaving Sephiroth to chew on that piece of information, Hojo left the office and went in search of one scientist in particular, a rather brilliant young man fresh out of Midgar University. He'd applied to the MilSci department and had filed for transfers to Deepground, but Hojo had snatched him up upon seeing his innovative work in neurosurgery. The boy hadn't been particularly pleased by the detour at first, but had perked up at once upon seeing that Hojo's lab gave him a lot more toys to play with. And also access to his comatose brother, whom he was working on reviving. Hojo didn't particularly care for or enforce the ethical obligation of not working on or treating relatives.

Hojo found Machaon sitting, as usual, by the Mako-filled holding tank that was keeping his brother alive. A slim twenty-two-year old, he had a truly startling resemblance to the late and unlamented Turk Valentine that was thankfully only superficial: Machaon was far more intelligent than Valentine had ever been, and properly respectful of Hojo's scientific talents. The young man looked up as soon as Hojo entered the room.

"Hello, Professor," he said politely. As he stood, Hojo glanced at the book he'd been reading; it was some kind of storybook, no doubt something his unconscious brother had enjoyed. Had Machaon and his brother been anything but twins, Machaon's singlehearted devotion would have been disturbing. "Can I help you?" Machaon said, bringing Hojo back to the present.

"I need a second opinion," Hojo said, putting his hands into his pockets.

Machaon blinked. "And you want...me?" When Hojo nodded, the young man flushed. "Professor, I'm flattered, but I don't know how I could—"

"I'll give you instructions," Hojo said.

"Surely one of the senior scientists—"

"Perhaps, but I trust _you._" After all, letting Machaon work on his brother in the most advanced lab in the world had bought Hojo the boy's eternal gratitude and undying loyalty: that couldn't be said for any other person in Hojo's employ. As Machaon turned deeper shades of red, Hojo continued talking. "Now, boy... The work we are about to do is of a very sensitive nature. I do hope you can keep this discreet?"

Machaon nodded so hard his head almost fell off. "Oh yes, Professor! I swear, I won't say a word to anybody."

"_What a good boy,"_ Hojo thought with a smile. _"Already he's agreed, and he has no idea what I want him to do."_

"Follow me, then," Hojo said, and, with Machaon on his heels, went back to his office.

Sephiroth was pacing when they arrived and didn't look up until they shut the door. Hojo heard Machaon gasp softly behind him; no doubt the boy had expected to work on an animal, or at least a human he didn't recognize. Sephiroth studied Machaon with sharp eyes for a long second before turning back to Hojo.

"Let's get this over with," he said, leaning on Hojo's desk. "You, what's your name?"

"M-Machaon, sir."

"Do you know what you're doing?"

"Um... Not yet, but I will, once I know what the problem is."

Sephiroth didn't say anything, only looked at Machaon in a singularly speculative manner. Then he looked at Hojo and said, "You didn't tell him what was going on?"

"You can do that."

Sephiroth growled in irritation, but looked at Machaon. "Well?" He demanded. "Get to it."

Machaon flushed, but coughed awkwardly and complied. Hojo leaned against the wall, a dispassionate observer, as Machaon went through the same questions Hojo had asked Sephiroth, and then some. Rather than snap in irritation, Sephiroth actually seemed to respond to the detailed questioning and was even asking questions back, such as the likelihood of him having cancer and some such. He was a great deal more relaxed with Machaon than he ever was with Hojo, which Hojo assumed was because Sephiroth did not see Machaon as a threat. Or something to annoy. In any case, Machaon finished the questioning and politely excused himself. Turning around, he noticed Hojo and smiled briefly. "Professor, if I may have a word?"

Hojo opened the lab door and the two of them stepped outside. Sephiroth could probably hear what they were saying, but Hojo chose not to point that out to Machaon in his amusement over the young man's suddenly decisive manner.

"Well, dear boy? What do you think?"

"I'm at a loss," Machaon said. "Nothing seems to fit. There are types of tumors that cause tinnitus, but they're usually localized in one ear, not the center of the head. A buildup of CSF might cause the pain, but certainly not the ringing. He's not on any medications and any damage to his cochlea or auditory nerves would be instantly repaired by his accelerated regeneration, so..."

"Hmph."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"We're not done yet," Hojo said. "And in any case, you've proven many times that you're well worth your salt. Come, we'll put him through the resonance machine."

They put him through the resonance machine, the internal tomography machine, and a variety of other toys Hojo had just been itching to try out on Sephiroth's peculiar physiology. At the end of the day, however, Hojo was unable to find out what was wrong, and Machaon was seriously disturbed by Sephiroth's radical internal anatomy. Sephiroth, of course, was very displeased.

"You put me through all that and you don't even have an IDEA?" He demanded, advancing on the two of them. Hojo put himself in front of Machaon, who was not modified as he was and thus far more likely to die if Sephiroth lost his temper and swung at them. It seemed entirely too likely, considering the way the man's hands were twitching.

"Calm down," Hojo said severely. "You're not doing yourself any good by getting worked up over this."

"Worked up? _Worked up?_ I'm _far_ beyond "worked up", you little—"

"Go home and get some rest," Hojo said, leaning back as Sephiroth's hands began rising toward his neck. "Your daughter must be missing you."

"My daughter..." Curiously, this defused whatever ire Sephiroth was feeling. To Hojo's astonishment, the man deflated. "Tori..."

"What about her?" Hojo asked curiously.

"...never mind." Sephiroth straightened and pointed at his head. "Get rid of this thing. Put me in a tank, saw my head open, whatever you have to do. If this goes on much longer I'm liable to go on a psychotic break."

Hojo looked at him for a long moment, not saying anything. Then a bubble of glee exploded out of him in a wild cackle of triumph, and he clapped his hands together, rubbing them eagerly. He did not notice Machaon looking at him nervously.

"Well we can't have that, can we?" Hojo grinned. "We can't have you running around psychotic. Get on that operating table now."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Dun dun DUUUN. :P

By the way... People get some serious klepto points if they can tell me who Machaon is in the FFVII universe. His resemblance to Vinny Valentine and him having a brother is a big, big clue, though I'm screwing around with canon as well... But this character didn't have much of a personality to begin with, so I'm taking him and making him BETTER. I swear.

Anyway, what are klepto points good for? NOTHING but goodwill and happiness!

/\/\/\/\/\


	111. Chapter 100 OMFG

Put Your Lights On

2.12.07

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter ONE FUCKING HUNDRED. XX. OMGWTFBBQ!!!

/\/\/\/\/\

_"This seems terribly familiar."_

Sephiroth closed his eyes. There wasn't much to see except the marbled Mako green around him, the lukewarm, slippery-slimy stuff he was floating (naked, as usual) in. The Mako immersion was uncomfortable, but the rubbed-raw burn all over his body was infinitely preferable to the shrill whine in his head that was, thankfully, starting to go away. It did not go easily. Resentfully, almost like a living creature, it backed away in tiny steps and growls, expressing its displeasure with pulses of pain that made Sephiroth grunt and twitch. He could not see well out of the Mako tube and didn't know how much time finally passed before the whine subsided to a barely perceptible drone. It wasn't completely gone, but it would do for now. He hoped. Especially since Hojo's exploratory surgery had uncovered nothing.

Sephiroth flexed his hands. They lay at his sides, but he could still feel Toriko's delicate little neck between them, and a different kind of burn smoldered in his chest. Screaming or not, she never deserved to be handled like that. A slap was quick and to the point, but there was no reasonable purpose to choking, other than to frighten and...kill.

_"I nearly throttled my own daughter."_

Guilt—that was the word, the emotion, the burn. Toriko could do that to him, make him regret things he'd done or almost did. Or didn't do. Painfully Sephiroth was aware that children should not support their parents, at least not when the parents could still support themselves and _were_ supposed to take care of the children. His reluctance to leave Toriko had been very real; even at this moment, Hojo could be scheming to get her back.

_"Tori?"_ He reached out to her mind.

_"I'm here, Father."_ She sounded so calm, so patient. So forgiving. Sephiroth wondered if she harbored thoughts of patricide.

_"Where are you?"_ He asked instead.

_"On the train to the Tuesti house. Reno is dozing."_

_"Hmph."_

_"He's not being a slacker, Father. Technically I am asleep."_

_"Oh."_

_"It's alright, Father. I can still talk."_ Her mental voice turned wry. _"I'd be doing the same amount of mental work if I were dreaming."_

He had to chuckle at that. _"I hope you remember this conversation more than your dreams."_

_"Seeing as this is actually important, I'm certain I will."_ She paused for a moment. _"How's the Professor treating you, then?"_

_"No worse than usual."_ Sephiroth hesitated, and thought, _"They don't know what's wrong with me."_

_"I see."_

_"But they _do _know it's not cancer."_

_"That's good."_ Toriko paused again. _"Father... Who gets me if you...?"_

_"Your next of kin, I suppose."_

_"But who would that be? Mother's supposed to be dead and the "relatives" in Wutai hate me."_

Sephiroth thought for a moment. _"Rufus, then. Since he is technically my adopted brother..."_

_"I see."_

_"You don't sound too pleased."_

_"I..."_ Toriko radiated discomfort. _"I'm not."_

_"Is there anyone you'd rather be placed with? The Tuesti family, perhaps?"_

_"I'd...Um... Father, let's change the subject, please."_

_"Alright,"_ he thought, bemused and inexplicably touched. _"How are you?"_

_"I'm fine. You seem to be much better. Not so..."_

_"Crazy?"_ He thought at her wryly, a little bitterly. _"Irrational?"_

_"Strained,"_ Toriko temporized, but he could feel her agreement.

_"This Mako bath is helping. I can barely hear the noise now."_

_"That's wonderful, Father..."_

_"I know. I'm trying to find a solution. So is Hojo, and one of his post-docs."_

_"Post-doc?"_

_"A fancy word for a very smart young man."_

Toriko's thoughts flickered with surprise. _"He's working with someone else?"_

_"I know. Who would have thought his ego would allow it? Even more amazing, he's letting the boy call the shots."_

_"Are you worried?"_

_"No. This Machaon fellow seems to know what he's doing. Also, he doesn't have Hojo's callousness, so that counts for something."_

_"It's good to know you're in good hands, Father."_

_"Your hands were better,"_ he thought at her, and felt her blush warmly. Perversely, rather than assuage his guilt, Sephiroth felt worse. _"Toriko, listen..."_

_"You don't have to say anything, Father,"_ she thought at him kindly. _"It's alright."_

_"No, it's not alright,"_ he thought at her strongly. _"You know how I react to being crossed, and we're going to butt heads more and more often as you grow older. I need to learn how to control my temper with you."_

She didn't say anything. That was all the answer he needed.

Sephiroth withdrew the mental contact, but Toriko hung on, and he could feel her reluctance in her quiet but tight grip. Sephiroth relaxed, and for a while they thought nothing at each other. It was comforting, just to be aware of Toriko's near ubiquitous presence...

_"I would miss her..."_

Sephiroth was not a hugging kind of person. When a man had enough strength in his arms to crush a car, he didn't wrap them around living beings very often, especially not around fragile little things like daughters. When he did embrace Toriko, he draped his arms around her, never applying pressure. Even now, as he stretched his awareness out to touch every soft surface of her mind, he did not press or use any kind of force. Toriko's mind fluttered like a small bird in his grasp, and again he was aware of how easily she could die: how easy it would be to hurt her.

_"I need to go away for a while,"_ Sephiroth thought at her.

_"What?"_ Toriko was stunned. _"Why?"_

_"Until this headache is gone, I need to stay away from you. I could hurt you by accident...again."_

_"But..."_

_"First you couldn't wait to get rid of me, now you want me to stay?"_ Sephiroth joked, trying to lighten the mood. When Toriko's worry did not abate, he sobered and added, _"I know why you're concerned. But there is a plan in place."_

_"A plan?"_ Toriko repeated._ "For you going away?"_

_"Yes. Well, not exactly. Admittedly it was made for me if ever I needed to leave Midgar in a hurry, but it'll work just fine for you... With some modifications."_

_"...you're sending me away?"_

He could feel the tremor in her voice, the fear and disappointment. _"Only to keep you safe,"_ Sephiroth said soothingly. _"I want to make sure Hojo doesn't get his hands on you while I'm recovering. Now listen to me, and listen well."_

_"Y-yes, Father..."_

_"Under my mattress there is a great deal of money. Take all of it and disappear into the Midgar slums."_

He felt her shrink. _"The slums, Father?"_

_"Yes, the slums. Hojo has proven himself eminently incompetant when it comes to finding valuable specimens down there, and it'll also be a way for me to find you quickly since you'll still be in Midgar. I'd rather you go to Junon or some other far city, but I don't know how far our range is..."_

And he also wanted to stay close, just in case of accidents. She was only fourteen, after all, and had yet to kill anything.

_"What will I do in the slums?"_ Toriko thought fearfully. _"A fourteen-year-old girl living all alone..."_

_"What are you afraid of? You're more than able to take care of yourself."_

Toriko didn't respond. Instead she pushed a barrage of images at him, memories of hers that he was only barely aware of. As Seishi, scenes of dingy restaurants, and the formerly disreputable Blue Lotus flickered over his mind, Sephiroth realized that though Toriko could probably protect herself on the streets, the lack of a parent or a strong adult figure nearby would make her vulnerable.

_"I'll be with you in spirit,"_ he reminded her. _"You'll do fine."_

_"I'd much rather have you with me in person."_

_"I'd rather have that too, but we can't do that right now. Even as we speak, Hojo's no doubt realized that you're alone and unprotected. His first thought will be to call Tseng and have him send the order to get you. Tseng will then call Reno, who will have no choice but to turn you in."_

_"Unless they get orders from someone with a higher priority,"_ Toriko mused.

Sephiroth looked at her askance. _"What kind of orders?"_

"_Ones from President Shin-Ra."_

"What?"

"If President Shin-Ra told them to leave me alone..."

"And why would he do that?"

"Because first off I am now the Shin-Ra Princess and people expect to see me around town, which I am quite frequently thanks to Meryl and the Tuesti family. If I disappeared, there would be an uproar."

"It's one he can afford."

"Alright, then how about this...blackmail."

"Blackmail!" Sephiroth almost laughed. "And what kind of blackmail would you have on the Fat Man?"

_"Any kind I like, Father,"_ Toriko thought sweetly. Much too sweetly._"As I'm sure you remember, we're not limited by normal circumstances."_

_"What do you...wait. Are you saying that you're going to probe his mind?"_

_"I will find the darkest, most shameful thing he's ever done and threaten to make it public if I go missing."_

_"That'll give him more reason to make you disappear."_

_"But he won't."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because then you'll be after him."_

Sephiroth chuckled. _"And if I'm not around?"_

_"Then Rufus will take it public and ruin him with it. He's very opportunistic."_

Sephiroth's brows rose. _"That would have to be some serious blackmail."_

_"Oh, it will be."_

_"...You haven't actually found it yet, have you?"_

"...no."

_"You should work on that."_

_"I will."_

_"In the meantime, we'll do my plan. Has Reno received any calls yet?"_

Toriko sighed. _"As you wish, Father. And no, he hasn't. It's been about three or four seconds in the real world since we started talking, I don't think Hojo could call that fast."_

_"He stuck me in the tank about fifteen minutes ago. It should have occurred to him by now."_

_"He's probably preoccupied with your condition."_

_"Perhaps..."_

"As I am still on the train and unable to make a break for it, I'm going to go in search of blackmail, Father."

"Alright." Sephiroth thought, bemused. _"Find something juicy."_

_"Thank you, Father. I'll do my best."_

**PAGEBREAK**

Author's note:

Flying by the seat of my pants has finally come to bite me in the butt. This is the reason for the long hiatus after I swore to make weekly updates. XX Sorry. At the time I really did think they were going to be weekly. Perhaps I should re-institute my "5-chapter cushion" plan.

In other words, I have been alive, well, and holy crap busy. I got a job with Vector Marketing, which is fantastic if you are an outgoing, friendly person with a good attitude. My boyfriend and I have been together for 5 months, which is exciting and also a little scary for me; I've never stuck with anyone this long. School is fun though my grades don't reflect is. Hmm, what else...?

Oh. I made about $400 at an anime convention doing commissions, portraits, paper jewelry, and selling candy. Is that not awesome?

**PAGEBREAK**

You know what's fucking annoying? Going through this chapter and adding friggin' HTML tags for Italics because of #$&ing formatting. I've been away for a while and have yet to see the new changes they've talked about, so hopefully the problem is fixed. 

And in other news, I wish there was a way to copy 2 things and then be able to paste them separately. You know, like cntl-C1, cntl-C2, etc. It'd make my life a lot easier. 


	112. Chapter 101

Put Your Lights On

4.08.07

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter One Hundred and One

/\/\/\/\/\

Tseng looked at the phone in his hand, painfully aware of Rude's eyes on him. He knew he had to make a decision, though technically there wasn't a decision to make. He'd just received orders from Hojo to go and recapture the long-missing specimen Awe.

_"No sooner than he pops the General into the tank does he whip around and tell us to go hunt down his daughter,"_ Tseng thought sourly. His stomach was roiling as it hadn't done for years at the thought of bringing Toriko back to the lab, and he wished for his antacid pills. Not that it would help the mental pain much. Tseng sighed and dialed Reno's number.

"I hate this job sometimes," he said to no one in particular, but nonetheless in Wutaiese.

Reno picked up after a couple of rings. "Yo?" His voice crackled slightly; Tseng guessed he was underground, probably in the subway. Tseng could hear him fine, but...

"Reno," Tseng said loudly, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw Rude's mouth twitch; he'd probably caught on to what he was doing. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the subway, boss. Almost to the Tuesti house. Why are you yelling?"

Tseng ignored that comment. "What is the status of your charge?"

"Toriko? She's right here, conked out on my shoulder." Tseng could hear a subtle note of protectiveness creeping into Reno's voice. That could be bad or good, depending on what happened next. Tseng hoped it'd be good.

"How close are you to the station?"

"We're just pulling in now, why?"

Tseng didn't say anything for a moment. Instead he listened hard, keening his ears for the shrill shriek of the train coming to a halt, the pressurized hiss of the doors opening. As soon as Tseng heard the rumble of many feet shuffling across the floor, he spoke again.

"Good. Here are your new orders." Being careful to speak as loudly and clearly as he could without shouting, Tseng said, "We have been ordered by Professor Hojo, the head of Shin-Ra's Science Department, to recapture Specimen A-Alpha, otherwise known as Awe...and Toriko Shin-Ra."

"Say what the fuck!?" Reno yelped, but Tseng wasn't listening to him. At once Tseng heard something that sounded like a small explosion, and Reno's cry of consternation let him know that Toriko, with all her enhanced hearing, had heard the message...

...and taken the cues.

_"Good girl,"_ Tseng thought, closing his eyes in relief. _"Get the hell out of there."_

"Tori! Toriko!" Reno was yelling, half panicked and half angry. "Tori, get back…no...wait, Boss! Boss!"

"What, Reno?"

"Did I hear you right? We have to…?"

"Yes, Reno." Tseng deliberately voided his voice of emotion. "Is that a problem?"

"Fuck yeah it's a problem! No wonder she's so fucking jumpy all the time!"

Tseng held the phone away from his ear as the twenty-year-old vented some of his more choice expletives. Out of the corner of his eye Tseng saw Rude adjusting his sunglasses.

"I expect you to pursue, Reno," Tseng said when Reno stopped to take a breath. "You don't have to like your orders. You just have to do them. Report back in an hour."

Reno hung up without saying another word. Tseng hung up as well, closing his phone with a sigh. The redhead was no doubt pissed, but hopefully it was at the right people: knowing that every Turk conversation was bugged, Tseng had done his game best to tell Reno what to do without actually saying it.

"_Yes, you have to pursue... But I never said how fast, or how well. If she gets away, then what can you do?"_

Tseng pinched the bridge of his nose. As a Turk, his official duties were scouting out SOLDIER candidates, investigating unusual phenomena, and protecting the Shin-Ra family. What he would give just to leave it at that, but no: the Turks were every Executive's go-fers, which meant everything from fetching donuts to assassinations to kidnapping little girls...

"_Children should never be exposed to this kind of terrible life."_

Tseng was now thirty-two. Being a Turk, he'd sold his soul to the Company ten years ago for the pride of protecting the world's most powerful people. When Tseng had signed on, he'd signed away all chances of a normal life, because the only way a Turk left the Company was in a body bag. Turks simply knew too much. And yet they knew nothing at all of the normal, daresay universal human experiences. A Turk couldn't have a relationship; their partner would be a liability, because even the sweetest of significant others could be an AVALANCHE or rival company spy. And of course a child was out of the question.

But was it so much to ask for, to have someone look at him with the same love and adoration that Toriko had for her father?

"Where do you think she'll run to?" Rude asked, folding his arms.

"Not the Tuesti house," Tseng said, looking out of the elevator. It was a great glass cylinder capable meant to be impressive, since it went down the outside of the Shin-Ra Building and gave its occupants an Executive-level view of Midgar. Tseng, however, was not in the mood to be impressed, and even though he looked at Midgar he didn't see its glittering lights, its neat avenues. Somewhere out there a little girl was running for her freedom, her life. "Toriko will go where she feels safe. Somewhere she thinks we won't look."

"Like where?"

"I think...her own home."

"Because that's the last place we'd expect to see her? The place she just ran from?"

"It would make sense. She would try to trick us that way."

Tseng saw Rude nod in the reflection of the glass elevator. "Think Reno's headed there?"

"If he's smart, he will."

"_And if he's very, very smart, he'll realize that's precisely where she won't be..."_

/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Author's note:**

I am making this in bold to avoid awkward sentences apparently appearing out of nowhere.

So, Toriko is off and running! Any takers as to where she pops up:D I'm tempted to leave things here just to see the guesses, but 3 pages is too short for this kind of action. A 2-parter special!

**End Author's note.**

/\/\/\/\/\

It was very easy for Toriko to run through the crowded subway, as strange as that might seem. The exiting and entering people constantly shifted, giving a girl who was just barely five feet plenty of space to maneuver in. Toriko knew that Reno, lanky at five ten or thereabouts, would have a considerably harder time.

But that didn't mean she was going to slow down.

Tearing out of the subway station, Toriko burst onto the Sector Four sidewalk and stopped for a moment, wracked with indecision. Thanks to her conversation with Sephiroth, she had a plan she could go along with...

OR...she could make up her own.

After all, she really didn't want to go to the slums, and her weapons were too fancy; someone would call her in as a missing rich kid, and that wouldn't help her situation at all. And also, what if someone attacked her? What if they hurt her or worse, what if she hurt them? After sparring with Zack and Dulles, giving the former at least one serious whack on the head and nearly taking off the latter's foot, Toriko knew she could more than likely protect herself against any lowlife or mugger in the slums. But if she protected herself too much...

The fact of the matter was that Toriko was not ready to strike off on her own just yet. She was only fourteen years old! If Sephiroth had his way she'd be packing off to the nearest military academy, but Toriko didn't want that. She wanted to finish school with Meryl, stay at home with Sephiroth, live a safe and happy life...

_"But I can't have that as long as I'm being hunted."_

So the sixty-four thousand gil question was where did she have to go to make that happen.

_"Slums,"_ Sephiroth prompted in her mind.

_"I would ­_really ­_prefer not to, Father. Besides, Reno's the one who will be chasing me and he knows them fairly well. I'd be better off hiding up here."_

_"But he knows all the places you visit."_

_"What if I selected safe berths at random?"_

_"And attracted attention? You'd be rather noticeable..."_

Notice—the word made something click in Toriko's head, and she almost laughed aloud in relief. Taking a deep breath and straightening her clothes, Toriko took a step forward...

…and began walking very calmly.

_"What the HELL are you doing!?"_ Sephiroth demanded.

_"I'm not going to run because that will attract attention,"_ Toriko thought at him. _"I am going to look like I'm going somewhere because otherwise people will want to know where my companions are. Also, I am going to be doing this..."_

And by "this", Toriko meant the silent mental stream of "just another teenage girl" she streamed around her like a cloud of cigarette smoke. The suggestion clung to everyone it touched and transferred, however faintly, to anyone else it brushed against. No one would remember seeing her in particular, but "just another teenage girl".

_"It's easier than pretending to be a shadow,"_ Toriko thought at Sephiroth, _"which was what I did for me and Mother back in Wutai. I tried to make us disappear, but that's not entirely possible..."_

_"So you became "invisible"," _Sephiroth mused. _"Interesting. Just another beggar woman and her child..."_

Now that she could relax, Toriko took a moment to decide where to go. Home was out of the question, as were any familiar places; the Turks would eventually check them all, and while she could sense them coming and get the hell out in the meantime, it would be too stressful to be on watch 24/7. She needed a safer haven and more importantly, a protector.

So Toriko turned around and began heading toward the Garrison.

_"How do you plan to hide yourself in an all-male complex?" _Sephiroth wanted to know.

_"By being "one of the boys"," _Toriko thought back. _"A large part of this mental camouflage is playing up to people's expectations. There are a lot of boys my age in the Garrison, so if I sit in with them..."_

"_I don't like that idea. They take group showers."_

_"…I think I will pay Captain Dulles and Zack a visit."_

_"Go do that."_

The Garrison was a sector or two away, so Toriko took a bus and walked for a bit. No one seemed to realize who she was, only that she was there, and she met with no incident as she approached the Garrison. But as she neared the gates, she paused.

_"What's wrong?"_ Sephiroth thought at her. _"Go right in."_

_"That would require showing my ID card, which would be logged into the system if the Turks came by... No, I suppose a bit of subterfuge is in order."_

Toriko studied the Garrison walls. Twenty feet high, they were easily within her jumping range but the problem was that she didn't know what was on the other side. If anyone were to see her hopping over, there would be a problem. The only ways in and out were being watched, and her head was buzzing faintly from the effort of projecting her mental illusions: if she didn't stop soon, she'd have a terrible headache. Toriko sat down on a nearby bench and took off her bandana to massage her head.

"Hmm?" The semi-familiar voice made Toriko freeze. "What are you doing out here?"

She looked up and felt her blood turn to ice water. A tall, much-too-good-looking man was gazing down at her, his bag of groceries at odds with his red and black leather outfit.

_"G!"_ Sephiroth snarled. Toriko winced as her head exploded with the force of his anger; for reasons she didn't completely understand, her father _really_ didn't like G. The outburst had another effect; before she could stop it, the mental illusions she'd been projecting evaporated like smoke in the wind.

"You look terrible," G said, his eyes flicking over her figure. "Where's your father?"

"That is none of your concern," Toriko retorted for lack of anything better to say.

"You're right," G said. Then, to Toriko's infinite discomfort, he leaned down and looked her straight in the eye. "­_You're _my concern now."

Toriko did her best not to jump up and run away. As Sephiroth snarled in impotent protective rage, she calmly said, "Nice of you to be worried. But you should be more concerned about your invasion of my personal space. I bite when threatened."

G burst out laughing. As he straightened and readjusted his bag of groceries, he said, "Do you think I'm threatening you?"

"It never hurts to be careful."

"Especially when you're on your own," G agreed with a smile.

"_Especially_ when older men take undue interest in you," Toriko said with a frown.

G's smile only broadened. Tilting his head, he asked, "Undue interest? Wouldn't any man wonder what a young girl is doing alone and uncared for?"

"And how he can profit from the situation?" Toriko folded her arms across her chest.

"Why do you think the worst of me?" G asked. "What have I ever done to you?"

"It's what you _can_ do that makes me think the worst," Toriko said, rising from the bench. "And behave accordingly."

"Well if I'm so dangerous," G said, putting a hand on his chest. "Why are you still here?"

Toriko couldn't think of anything to say. She turned to go, but G took a step toward her.

"Wait," he said. "Don't you want to get a shower?"

Toriko looked at him questioningly. G motioned over his shoulder. "My apartment's near here." He said, looking at her. "You can—"

Toriko shook her head. "No thank you."

"I won't do anything to you. Don't you remember? I stood up for you when your father—"

"I remember. And still, no thank you."

"What are you running from?"

"What?"

"What are you running from?" G asked, taking another step toward her. "You haven't bathed in a while or changed your clothes. Did something happen to you?"

"It's none of your business," Toriko said, taking a step back. "And while your concern is noted, it's also creepy. Goodbye, Genesis."

"You can call me G, you know. I prefer it."

"Goodbye, Genesis."

And with that Toriko turned around and for no real reason she could place, began to run.

"_You stayed around him much too long,"_ Sephiroth seethed. _"He's got his hooks in you now."_

"_What hooks, Father? I ran."_

"_You should have walked. He now knows you're afraid of him, Toriko, and he'll use that against you when you least expect it."_ She felt him flexing his mental fingers. _"Though he'll have to contend with me first. I don't like how interested he is in you. It's extremely unwholesome."_

"_What exactly is the problem between the two of you, Father? It can't simply be his profession."_

Sephiroth snorted. _"Don't you sound so certain."_

Toriko ignored his condescension, choosing instead to probe a little more. _"He seems to object to your manner of escaping the laboratory."_

Again Sephiroth snorted, but it was a much softer sound and colored with a note of furtiveness. It took Toriko the briefest of moments to realize that while she knew that Sephiroth had gone into the army to escape from Hojo, she didn't know how Hojo had been convinced to let him go to the army in the first place.

Then again, SOLDIERS were humans specially modified for battle, but only from their adolescent years. If Sephiroth had been made to fight from the moment of his conception, there'd be no silly little waiting period of thirteen or fourteen years.

"_But Father's experiment couldn't have worked out that well,"_ Toriko realized. _"Otherwise there'd be more of him, and I know there aren't. No one else can do what we can do..."_

Briefly she wondered if Sephiroth's ability to reproduce was a boon or a curse to Hojo's experiment. After all, having an intelligent and maladjusted supersoldier able to procreate without the aid of science was another was of spelling "the end of humanity as we know it", if one was a sensible person. And Hojo had never been famous for his good sense.

In any case, she didn't think Sephiroth had been designed as a SOLDIER since birth. G's little hints a couple weeks ago about the manner of her father's escape, and Sephiroth's reaction to those words, made Toriko think that Sephiroth was originally supposed to stay in the laboratory his entire life. Yet something had happened that had made him go to Wutai, something Hojo couldn't have argued with.

"_It must have been orders from President Shin-Ra,"_ Toriko thought to herself. _"The war was already a year or two underway when Father went to fight, so he might have been sent overseas to turn the tide... But no. Only fourteen and with no true testing of his capabilities, it would be folly to send over a child…"_

It didn't occur to Toriko that even at fourteen, Sephiroth might have been very different from her.

"_Maybe G was supposed to go over instead, and Father took his place... That would explain the animosity, but still not how Father was allowed to go at all."_

"_All this is very interesting," _Sephiroth thought at her grumpily, making Toriko jump—she hadn't been aware that he'd been listening in on her thoughts. _"But ultimately useless. Where are you going to sleep tonight?"_

Toriko refocused her thoughts. She still hadn't figured out how to get into the Garrison without attracting notice yet, and while the Seventh would probably provide protection for her out of loyalty to her father, she'd no doubt get them in trouble once their complicity was discovered. Anyone helping her run would get in trouble once they were discovered...

"_So who either likes me enough to risk it, or just doesn't care? And who is above reproach?"_

Just then a gust of wind, almost prophetic in its arrival, blew through the street and sent a dirty tabloid flapping and flying into Toriko's path. She looked down and gazed speculatively at the tawdry photo-collage cover that closely resembled the work of a dyslexic 5-year-old. The headline—"BACK TO REHAB?!"—was nowhere near as interesting as the photo, or at least the photo's subject.

"_NO!"_ Sephiroth bellowed. _"Not him!"_

"_Why, Father?"_ Toriko thought innocently, trying not to smile at his outrage. _"What's wrong with Rufus?"_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

This time I was in France.

And about Toriko's mental powers: I know right now she seems like she's more powerful than Sephiroth, but the fact is that she just has more experience. She's a lot more willing to use the mind-poke buttons than he is and pretty much does so daily. He, on the other hand, is in a position where he doesn't need to poke into people's heads to find out what he wants to know and also has Toriko to poke people for him. But it's not like he's bad at this game either. To use an analogy, Sephiroth is an iron rod and Toriko is an acupuncture needle. Excuse me.

::flails and shakes::

You know what I hate about the weather getting warmer? Bugs. I have a mighty dislike for insects when they climb UP MY LEG. Especially when they are carpenter ants. I miss the pond we used to have, because we'd just throw the insects in there for our fish to take apart.

Anyway, back to the analogy. Sephiroth is the big gun of the mental powers because there's pretty much nothing he won't do once he decides to get into someone's mind. Toriko prefers a delicate touch and an intact head later. In addition, they've also got their own specialties, but that's for later. How much later?

Bah, might as well make it official. I've said as much to individual reviewers, so I might as well put this out there now. B PYLO is only part one. /b So...

BOOYA.

I'm going to go and make myself miserable now. I write more when unhappy.

:P Just kidding.

/\/\/\/\/\


	113. Chapter 102

Put Your Lights On

6.04.07

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter One Hundred and Two

/\/\/\/\/\

Dark Nation sighed. He looked up at his ginger-haired cub, who was doing the same thing as he was—lying on the couch and staring at the light-box-with-people-inside with a vapid and utterly bored expression. The both of them were suffering from being in the primes of their lives and not being allowed to exercise their strength. Master wanted to go to work and write on papers that inexplicably made him feared and respected. Dark Nation wanted to gnaw, damn it, and all the pent-up lightning magic in his blood was making him feel itchy.

He heard footsteps in the hall outside Master's dwelling and looked up as a knock sounded on the door. Master didn't move from the couch, instead shouting, "Malcolm, who's there?"

Malcolm was a present from Master's mother. He was like Nation, except that he guarded Master's health, his stomach, and the cleanliness of his dwelling. Malcolm walked to the door and looked through the sight-hole.

"It's Miss Toriko, sir," Malcolm said, his voice accented in the manner of the rich ones who lived by the sea.

"Toriko?" Master sat up. Nation wagged his tail. They liked Toriko, though Nation was more demonstrative about it than Master was. She was an adorable little cub.

"What's she doing here?" Master asked, rising from the couch. Nation followed after, his tail wagging more strongly as he picked up Toriko's scent. She was the only person who would ever scratch his nose, or Master's itch for something cute to love and love him back unconditionally.

"Shall I let her in, sir?"

"Of course, of course." Master crossed the room in a few broad strides, Nation trotting alongside. As Malcolm opened the door, Nation barked once in greeting.

"Hello," Toriko said, smiling tiredly. She looked tired all over, actually, and smelled quite strongly. As she stepped in, Malcolm took a pace back, his nose wrinkling slightly.

"This is a surprise..." Master said, looking her over. "What are you doing? Why are you here? Why do you look like—"

"I... I need help..." Toriko said, and Nation watched with some surprise as tears began to well up in her eyes.

"I will run you a nice warm bath, young miss," Malcolm said soothingly to Toriko as he shut the door behind her. "Sir, why don't you make Miss Toriko a cup of tea?"

"Tea! That sounds like a great idea," Rufus said, also staring at the tears in Toriko's eyes with alarm. At once he dashed to the kitchen and Malcolm went upstairs to draw a bath, leaving Nation alone with the dark-haired cub. He was aware she had not bathed for a while, but the smell was not particularly objectionable: Nation padded over to her and nudged her hip, earning a gentle rub on the short fur of his nose. As Toriko sat down on the floor and wrapped her arms around his neck, Nation sat down and tucked his chin behind hers, nuzzling the side of her head. Clearly she was in need of comforting.

A few minutes later Master was back, carrying a cup of tea. Nation critically surveyed his rattled composure and thought he didn't know how to care for a cub very well because he just held the cup out and struggled to say something without success. Toriko didn't seem inclined to move, so Nation reached out with his tentacle and took the cup from Master. When he held it in front of Toriko, she took it then and let go enough of him to sip.

"So...what's wrong?" Master asked, crouching down in front of her.

Toriko hesitated. She was quiet for a second and then took a long drink of tea, much as Nation had seen Master do to alcohols when he was about to do something unpleasant. Much in the same way Toriko set down her teacup with a clink on the floor before looking Rufus firmly in the eye.

"Please sit down," Toriko said. "And don't speak until I am finished, please."

Master sat down, looking worried. Toriko took a deep breath and began to speak. Her words were clear to understand, but her voice wobbled as though she were about to cry. Dark Nation saw the muscles in her throat work as she did her best to control herself.

"Father doesn't like President Shin-Ra even though he's Father's foster parent. I asked him why a few times, but he never said why. Never ­_really­ _why, anyway. He just didn't like President Shin-Ra and always told me that I shouldn't like him either.

"But he was never anything but nice to me. He sends me presents on my birthday and on the holidays, these pretty little things that Father would never buy because they're useless and girly. When he said he had a gift in his office for me, I didn't think twice. I...I didn't think at all."

A haunted, hooded look appeared in Toriko's eyes, and for a moment Dark Nation saw someone quite different, an older female who'd gone through terrible things and lived to tell the tale, though just barely. This older female's voice colored Toriko's words as she drew into herself, hugging her arms and whispering.

"I told myself it didn't happen and for a while I believed it. When I started showing, I didn't tell Father because he was busy with AVALANCHE and I knew he'd get mad and... But he found out, and we had to do something, so he took me to Deepground and we got the...problem...fixed by one of his friends. He was so angry, and I thought it was with me, but then he told me that President Shin-Ra had used to give him "presents" too... It's about ownership, he said. The Fat Man has to own everything in sight."

Dark Nation watched the most fascinating changes come over Master's face as Toriko continued speaking. First his eyes bulged, and his face twitched all over as he tried very hard not to say something. Then his face turned pale, and his hands clenched and unclenched in fists of suppressed horror and disbelief. At last Master was turning red, and in fact verging on purple as he managed to choke out, "That's a lie."

"Is it?" Toriko looked at him with her dreadful hollow eyes. Master had to look away. "Father work long hours. President Shin-Ra works few. President Shin-Ra speaks quite highly of me and is, to all appearances, quite fond of me. I never speak of him. Neither does Father. In fact, neither of us want anything to do with him while he talks about us all the time. Also, when in his presence, both of us display nothing but formality and in Father's case, well-veiled hostility."

"If my _dad,_" Master said angrily (and this was the only time Master had ever heard him call The Fat Man his 'dad), "Were a pedophile, I'd know!"

"Would you?" Toriko demanded, her eyes flashing. Her voice became hard, accusing. "Would you _really?_ How often did the two of you spend time together? How often did you pay attention to what he was doing?"

"All the fucking time!" Master bellowed. "I _admired_ him when I was kid, okay? Self-made man, the world at his feet, rich and famous, I fucking _studied_ him so I could be just like him when I grew up—"

"So how often did you look for faults?"

Master balled his hands into fists. "You—I—it's not—"

"Why would I lie?" Toriko whispered, closing her eyes. "Ask the brass where my father's gone. They'll tell you they haven't seen him or heard from him in two weeks. When Father found out what happened, he was so angry... He went to work and he never came back, what do you think he did?"

"What do you..." Master's eyes grew round. "No."

"He's my father," Toriko said in a low voice. "What do you **think** he'd do?"

"But my old man's still alive," Master said, shaking his head.

"Which means mine isn't," Toriko said, curling into a ball.

"Now wait a minute—"

"You were in Wutai, Rufus. You know he can be taken down, _you saw it happen. _And the Company's got its own ninja squad on call, even though they wear blue suits instead of ­_shinobi shozoko._"

Master raked his hand through his hair, but he looked more upset than frustrated.

"Nii-chan... Rufus..." Toriko leaned forward and laid her hand on his. He looked at her, his dark blue eyes conflicted. "Please, I need help. I need _protection._ I don't know what's going to happen to me once Father's gone, but I know it can't be good. The Company takes care of itself, and your father—the President—_is_ the Company, Rufus. Father protected me once by taking me public, the President has every reason to expect I'd go to the press..."

"Yeah...yeah..." Master looked away, clearly upset. "Uh..."

"Don't make me do that," Toriko said, her voice wobbling. Tears spilled out of her eyes. "Don't, please. I couldn't tell all those people. I don't want people looking at me like... Like..."

"Shh, shh." Master hugged Toriko, pressing her head into his shoulder. His eyes were distant; his face wore a thinking expression. Nation wondered what was happening in his head. As Toriko sobbed, Master rocked her gently back and forth and stroked her dirty black hair. "Shh, Tori, shh. It's going to be okay. It's gonna be okay, I swear."

Toriko just cried harder. Master hugged her tightly and rocked her back and forth until Malcolm came down and gently informed the two of them that Toriko's bath was ready. As Malcolm led Toriko off to the washroom, Master sat on the floor and brooded, lacing his hands together and resting his lips on his knuckles. His eyes were the darkest Nation had ever seen them.

Nation headbutted Master, rubbing his cheek against his ginger haired cub's, and woofed softly. Toriko's words clearly disturbed Master, but he apparently had no idea that she'd been lying almost the entire time. Yet it was not lying, not as Nation knew it. He couldn't understand why Toriko had flipflopped between truth and lie, but it had obviously been affective. Nation could see in Master's black look that the ginger-haired hume believed almost every word, or at least more than half. Nation headbutted him again, hoping to distract him from the lies, but all Master did was scratch him absentmindedly on the head. Impatient, Nation swung his head away and chomped on Master's hand.

"OW!" Master yelped, jerking like a lizard. He yanked his hand out of Nation's teeth and inspected the skin; it was red and slightly dented, but otherwise unharmed—Nation knew better than to apply pressure. Nation also knew that Master would think the bite was because he'd scratched the wrong place. So Nation backed up a few paces and bit him on the shoulder. When Master yelped again and leapt to his feet, Nation nipped him on the leg and sprang back, growling.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Master demanded, and lunged at him. Nation sprang away, and Master began to chase. Nation didn't mind; perhaps if Master were distracted enough, he'd forget all the bad things Toriko had said.

But at the same time, Dark Nation remembered that Toriko had told some truths. It had been Nation's experience that liars never told truths, it was just not done. And there had been a real hollow woman behind her eyes. There were some things humes just couldn't lie about. All this made Nation wonder why Toriko had said what she'd said, and just how badly she needed Master's protection. Nation didn't mind protecting Toriko if Master told him to.

But he wouldn't hesitate to end her if she hurt his cub either.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

So the other night I was having a party in the basement of my humble abode when an eestie-beastie/hairy house spider thing from Hell strolled out of my carpet. I say "out of my carpet" because it was the same color as the carpet, and also I had no idea where it came from. One of the boys (there were 5 boys and 3 girls, including me) put an empty beer bottle on top of it to trap it under the concave bottom. Another of the guys noticed what he did and asked why he did it. The first boy released the bug, which resulted in the second boy hurling himself across the room and tersely telling someone to "end it. End it now." Silver Whirl (of Yarn and Seymour fame) and another of the male guests attempted to do so, Silver with another empty bottle and the male guest by flinging Red Apple cards at it. Yes, we were playing Apples to Apples. Booze makes that game even more awesome.

So why'd I tell this story? Because I could, and because I used 'end' as a threatening verb in this chapter.

Special thanks to Silver and Linza for beta-ing this marvelous crack. I've been wanting to do this chapter ever since the story started...

/\

In other, slightly related news, there's legislation going through all state supreme courts that repeat child molesters/rapists/sex offenders get the death penalty. It's been made a law in three or four states. What's your opinion on this?

/\/\/\/\/\


	114. Chapter 103

Put Your Lights On

6.06.07

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter One Hundred and Three

/\/\/\/\/\

Sephiroth had a large bathtub in his apartment, but he hardly ever used it. He did not like baths. Being immersed in warm liquid reminded him of Hojo and actually reminded Toriko of Hojo too, which was why both of them preferred to take showers. Showers were quicker, used less water, and much more efficient when it came to rinsing oneself off. Yet for sheer relaxation purposes, Toriko had to admit that baths were quite superior. When she came into the humid bathroom, the deep tub was already full with gently steaming water, and the air smelled like sandalwood. Toriko did not ponder what the delicate fragrance was implying about Rufus, instead choosing to shuck off her dirty clothes and practically jump into the warm water.

"Ahhh..." Toriko sighed deeply as a sense of bliss swept over her. As she leaned against the back of the tub, she smiled to herself: Rufus had swallowed her falsehoods hook, line, and sinker. The beauty of her lies was that if Rufus tried to investigate, he'd come up against a suspicious wall of silence. If he tried to talk to the affected parties, namely her father and President Shin-Ra, their natural reactions would only confirm his suspicions. In the end, he would believe because he had no other choice, and also because he _wanted_ to. No matter how much Rufus protested, Toriko knew how he really felt about his father. President Shin-Ra had had nothing to do with Rufus until he'd been eleven years old and ready to be trained in the Company business. Rufus would never say it out loud, but he was looking for an excuse to vilify his pater.

Toriko was so pleased with herself that she almost hummed, then remembered she was supposed to be emotionally shattered and vulnerable. Taking a deep breath, she submerged just long enough to completely soak her hair, then rose slowly upwards. The resulting effect was that her hair swept completely around her face like a curtain, giving the perfect impression of brokenheartedness. Toriko hugged her knees to her chest for further effect and let her chin sink below the water. Now only her shoulders and her face above the bridge of her nose was visible.

_"There. Now it'll look as if I'm trying not to cry. Well? What do you think, Father?"_

Sephiroth didn't say anything. In fact, throughout the entire spinning of the tale, he had remained uncharacteristically silent. Toriko hadn't thought much of it at the time—she'd assumed he was letting her think on the fly—but now his silence was annoying. Wasn't he proud of her quick thinking? Wasn't he impressed at what she could do with little details and people's misgivings?

_"Father?"_ She prodded him gently. _"Aren't you going to say anything?"_

He withdrew from her touch. Toriko frowned, perplexed and starting to become a little bit worried. She approached him again, more cautiously this time.

_"Father? Did... Did I do something wrong? Did I make you angry?"_

_"You didn't make me angry, Tori."_

Toriko sighed in relief. _"It's just that you haven't said anything..."_

_"It's because I don't know what to say."_

_"What do you mean?"_

Again Sephiroth didn't say anything, and a long moment of silence went uncomfortably by. Toriko tried not to fidget. Somehow sensing that her father was trying to say something very important, she knew she had to remain still and attentive for him to say anything. The slightest distraction would make him drop the subject and further prodding would be to no avail. Still, nearly an entire minute went by before Sephiroth began to speak.

_"I'm sorry, Tori. I've never really acknowledged your...intelligence. I'm not saying that I thought you were stupid, but I just never knew that you could be so deductive."_

Toriko couldn't stop herself. _"Deductive? What do you mean, Father?"_

_"Then again, your mind does bend in strange directions,"_ Sephiroth thought, seemingly half to himself. _"Your unique circumstances predispose you toward the unimaginable and the unthinkable... And sometimes, the most sensible of solutions. I've forgotten that you're not actually a child, and that really, you never have been."_

Toriko bit her lip. Truth be told, she'd never really felt like a child until meeting her father—he'd provided her with physical security, a home, and the assurance that she'd never go hungry or have to work the streets for a living. She had no real responsibilities, wasn't that the mark of a child? But Toriko had to agree that she was definitely not like other children. She knew her mind was older than her body.

_"I suppose I shouldn't be that surprised that you figured it all out,"_ Sephiroth muttered, withdrawing into himself. _"I never planned to tell you, but..."_

The hair on the back of Toriko's neck began to prickle, but she couldn't stop herself from asking, _"But what, Father?"_

_"Don't play dumb,"_ he thought at her, only very slightly annoyed. _"The..."presents". From him. To me. Though they weren't much a gift in any way, shape, or form... I'm surprised you figured it out but then again, I suppose all the signs were there..."_

Toriko sat very still in the bath. Then she stuck her finger in her ear, wondering if earwax could make one mistake thoughts as well as words. But she realized almost at once that that was silly, so she began to massage her head in hopes of clearing the cobwebs. She was still very tired from taking care of her father and walking around Midgar with mental projections all around her.

_"Toriko?"_

_"In a moment, Father."_ She said politely. _"I'm not sure I heard you correctly."_

A pop of surprise and annoyance slapped against her awareness. "_What?"_

_"Like I said, Father, I'm not sure I heard you correctly. After all, if my mistaken impression is to be believed, then what I claim happened to me "recently" and to you "in the far past" _actually _happened to you, and I know you could never be taken advantage of by President Shin-Ra."_

Sephiroth stared. _"You... You didn't know. You really didn't know."_

She could imagine him raking his hand though his hair. If he'd been physically present, she was sure he'd be looking away, maybe fixing himself a drink. Not looking at her, certainly.

_"Well, you certainly know_ now," Sephiroth muttered. _"Though you're trying not to."_

_"I don't understand, Father."_

She flinched as his thoughts intensified, being sharper and harsher as he focused them on her. _"You understand very well, Toriko, you just refuse to accept. Do I have to say it in plain language for you to understand? Need I say that when I was fourteen years old, that man raped me up the ass?"_

It was like the proverbial ton of bricks had come crashing down on Toriko all at once, or perhaps an anvil, or some other similarly heavy object. Toriko's head went numb. Folding her hands quietly, she sat in the tub and didn't say or think anything for a long time.

_"I don't understand." _She thought finally, as calmly as she humanly could. _"President Shin-Ra is not a pedophile. Otherwise Rufus would have a lot more problems than he has right now, or the Fat Man would have honestly tried to get me alone. And even aside from that, how could it have happened? Weren't you under Hojo's supervision at all times?"_

_"Yes,"_ Sephiroth thought. _"Unless he was ordered not to be there."_

_"And he would obey such an order?"_

_"He had no choice," _Sephiroth muttered. _"The Fat Man would have cut off his funding. Better a little psychological damage than a fourteen-year-old project down the drain."_

Toriko's mind was spinning. Now that she'd been forced to accept what she couldn't believe had happened, she felt sick to her stomach and somehow horribly vulnerable though nothing had actually been done to her. Looking around, she spotted a bottle of shampoo and grabbed it immediately, squirting a liberal amount into her palm. Immediately Toriko began to lather her hair, taking care to soap her entire scalp. The motions were mindless but not nearly distracting enough. Still, it helped enough that a couple minutes later Toriko could think with some semblance of real calm, and not the false "I can't hear you" evenness she'd been putting on earlier.

_"Father, if I may ask a question..."_

_"I have the feeling you'll ask anyway."_

_"Why didn't you fight?"_

_"It..."_ He seemed to look away. "_It wasn't in my best interests."_

Toriko dunked her head underwater. Holding her breath, she finger-combed the sweet-smelling lather out of her wet hair until her lungs burned for oxygen. Picking her head up, she took a deep breath and asked, _"You thought he would hurt you?"_

_"No,"_ Sephiroth thought slowly.

_"Then what...?"_

Sephiroth seemed to hunch in on himself. _"I was...aware of his interest in me. Everyone was interested in me even back then, though it was usually a passing thing. It would have been passing with him too, but I realized I could use him… I saw that he had the power to command Hojo, and I thought maybe he could get me out..."_

Toriko stared, not sure what she was hearing. _"So... You seduced him?"_

_"No!"_ Sephiroth thought sharply. _"Of course not! ...Well, maybe."_ He withdrew more._ "I don't know. I didn't reject him or strike out. But I never liked him, either. He..."_

Sephiroth said no more. Toriko couldn't think of anything to say either. She washed her hair a second time, wondering if she should say anything at all. Oddly enough her stomach did not hurt as much, and she supposed it was because of Sephiroth's admission. Toriko did not mind manipulation of the stupid and horny, and she wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't have tried the same thing if she'd been in Sephiroth's shoes. After all, if she'd been but a few years older during her tenure in the lab, she no doubt would have had the opportunity, and maybe even earlier than fourteen. Toriko had no illusions about the perversions present in the adult male population, as well as the ways those perversions could be handled if one had the stomach, the disregard for one's sanity, and no other option.

_"In any case,"_ Sephiroth thought, a tad defensively. _"It worked. He freed me from the lab, sent me off to the army, and the rest is history."_

Something about the word 'lab made a memory click in Toriko's mind. _"So when G said—"_

_"He saw it all."_

_"What?"_ Toriko squeaked.

Sephiroth sighed. _"We grew up in the lab together. Back then there wasn't much space, so we saw each other quite frequently. We used to be friends before..."_

There was a note of real sadness, real wistfulness in his thoughts, and for a moment Toriko saw glimpses of the children—well, biologically speaking—that her father and Genesis had used to be. They'd taken comfort in each other's presence, despite not being able to talk with their minds: they'd made up a language for the express purpose of irritating Hojo. They'd striven to outdo and impress each other for the joy only friendly competition could bring. They'd been family before...

_"So he was disgusted?"_ Toriko asked softly.

_"He was jealous."_

Toriko stared. _"What? At that age?"_

_"Like I said, everyone was interested in me back then."_

Toriko's head was starting to hurt again, but her hair didn't need a third wash and the rest of her was still dirty. Pushing the lather to the far end of the tub, Toriko picked up the conveniently placed bar of soap and began to soap herself. Here the deep water was inconvenient, so she rose and sat on the rim of the bathtub, her back to the door.

_"Did _he_ ever act on that interest?"_ Toriko wondered, not really expecting an answer.

_"Once. After Shin-Ra had gone."_ Sephiroth's thoughts flattened, becoming heated like a tempering sword. _"He thought I _liked_ that kind of attention."_

Maybe he would have, if things had gone differently. _"That was stupid of him,"_ Toriko thought instead. _"What happened?"_

_"I broke his jaw,"_ Sephiroth replied shortly. _"And a couple of his ribs. Hojo had to trank us both."_

Rufus's soap was peculiarly grainy. While sweet-smelling, it had a lot of little scrubby things that made her skin turn red if she soaped too often or too hard. The lather was not that impressive either, so instead of covering her evenly in all white it left a disappointing glittery sheen on her skin. As Toriko turned around and slipped back into the tub, she murmured to Sephiroth, _"...I just thought of something."_

_"What?"_

_"Well, if all our lies about our pasts are to be believed, then I've been raped a lot."_

_"How do you figure?"_

Toriko briskly rinsed herself off with swipes of her palms. _"Well, we had to explain why I lost all my hair three years ago and you said it was because of rape on the ship from Wutai to Midgar."_

_"I said that?"_

_"Yes, you did."_

_"Hmm. Glad you remembered."_

Toriko scrubbed her heels and the soles of her feet. _"I haven't made a big deal out of it, but I suppose I'll have to put on a better show now."_

_"Well, considering that it's "happened" to you...how many times?"_

_"Eight seems like a sensible number."_

Sephiroth's shock rippled like a disturbed ocean over her mind. _"Eight! Why eight?"_

_"I'm counting Mother's times plus my fake one, divided by four."_

She could feel Sephiroth doing the math. She could also feel him frowning as he got the results.

_"Wait a minute, I didn't—"_

_"ALL of Mother's times. You weren't the only one."_

_"I wasn't?"_

_"...is that _indignation_ you're feeling?"_

_"Of course not."_

Toriko forced herself to conclude that her father was much stranger than she'd ever imagined, and also made herself stop thinking before her brain had a potentially fatal hemorrhage from too many horrible images in the same day. She pulled the stopper out of the tub and got out of the bath as the water level slowly began to drop, noting with some small disdain the grayish-brown tint of the water. Yes, showers were much better for cleaning purposes.

Taking a fluffy towel off the bathroom counter, Toriko began to pat herself dry and nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a knock on the door.

"Tori?"

"...Nii-san?" Toriko said incredulously, staring at the door.

"I'm not coming in," he said quickly. Toriko keened her ears and heard him sit down, his back to the door. "Ah... How are you doing?"

"...Okay, I guess." Toriko didn't have to fake being upset. She had plenty of material to draw off of now.

"That's good." Rufus didn't say anything for a while. Toriko could hear him fidgeting as she dried herself off and picked up the soft white robe Malcolm had placed on the sink. "Listen, Tori..."

"Yes?"

"I, um... I hate to say this, but I'm not sure you're telling the truth."

Somewhere, Toriko had heard that in sales, one needed seven no's before one got to a yes, so she wasn't particularly worried. Still, she put a tremor in her voice as she asked, "What do you mean?"

"I..." Rufus sighed heavily. "I just can't believe it... But I don't know why you'd lie, either..." She heard him bump his head against the door. "Help me understand, Tori. How could this have happened?"

Toriko bit her lip. A couple minutes ago she'd been asking the same question, though Rufus was probably expecting a specific answer. Folding her arms tightly, she said, "It happened because..."

_"Because I didn't think I had a choice,"_ Sephiroth murmured.

"...Because I didn't think I had a choice..." Toriko said slowly. As a steady stream of words trickled into her mind, Toriko said haltingly, "You have to understand, Rufus... He's in a position of authority over me. He _made_ me...stay still. Stay quiet. He told me he'd turn my father into one of Hojo's specimens."

"He couldn't be that stupid," Rufus muttered to himself.

"He thinks he's invincible," Toriko said bitterly. Her chest burned with long-suppressed hurt. Someone else's long-suppressed hurt. Toriko shook her head and wiped the tears out of her eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. But while she could remain even, her father apparently couldn't. She could feel his anguish, his shame; twenty years worth of hiding was threatening to explode past the dam. Toriko couldn't bring herself to tell him to stop thinking about it, or for him to calm down.

_"I suppose I'll just have to make the best of it,"_ she thought.

Rufus coughed awkwardly. "Still—"

He was still doubting. Time to bring out the big guns, then. "He told me to look out of the window," Toriko whispered, again lying on the fly. She prayed that this wasn't how things had actually happened. "I looked. He came up behind me. He pushed me against the wall and—"

"Stop," Rufus said in a choked voice.

Toriko shut her eyes and squeezed her head tightly, her head suddenly pounding with images and feelings she'd kept locked behind diamond walls all her life. Seishi's rage and hate, Sephiroth's sick resignation, their shared horror and grief. Bile surged hot and sour into Toriko's mouth, and she had to swallow hard to keep from vomiting all over the floor. Sinking to her knees, Toriko hugged herself and began to rock back and forth. Places that had never been touched suddenly felt burned and raw, and for a moment she wished she were dead.

But she took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped the involuntary tears from her eyes, collecting herself as she always did and consoling herself with the fact that these terrible things had, no matter how much they sometimes felt like it, _had never happened to her._ She was reluctantly grateful for the vicarious pain, because thanks to the knowledge and experiences of her parents, she would know the predators and the situations when she saw them. She would know when to run.

And she would always know how to act.

"I'm sorry," Rufus said as she began to cry, pressing her head against her knees so her sobs were muffled just enough by the bathrobe. "I…I'll go now. I'm sorry, Toriko."

She heard him walking away very quickly and could imagine him clenching and unclenching his hands, his mouth set in a grim line. She knew he'd leave her alone for the time being. That didn't mean he'd leave the question alone. Toriko knew Rufus was going to go in search of answers.

_"Father?"_ She thought at Sephiroth. _"I need your help."_

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

My head hurts a little from all the scheming. Once again I must thank Silver Whirl for being my sounding board and awesome beta reader. Now, I know I changed it back to the previous version...well, the sort-of previous version... But the other one just didn't seem to work out right for this particular time. The "pansy" section will show up in a later chapter.

What, that doesn't make sense:P It will later.

You know what's freaky about staying up late? Knowing there are mousetraps in your house. Hearing them click. And then hearing scrabbling noises that take waaaay too long to stop. I think I'm going to try going to sleep before eleven p.m. now.

-

Hope you're enjoying the evilness. Some parts of this are uncomfortable to write, but they have to be written anyway. Just don't ask me for any Seamus/Sephiroth yaoi (coughpedophilacough) bonuses, because then I will scream and not write any more PYLO. How's that for a threat?

-

DAH! Minor edit in the beginning of the chapter. Thanks to Ann, who said...

"I spotted a slight continuity error with this chapter.

It states that "Sephiroth had no bathtub in his apartment", yet when Toriko first arrived there (in chapter 8, I believe), the very first thing that she did was to take a bath."

I love my reviewers.

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	115. Core Bonus!

PYLO Core Bonus!

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PYLO (Put Your Lights On) is a fanfiction by kleptomaniac0, which therefore by definition mean that the FFVII characters do not belong to the author and ergo do not garner any profit for said person. If sued, the author will simultaneously freeze and combust. This will result in a local hailstorm of flaming comets. Therefore... Yeah, you get the picture.

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Why is it called the Core bonus? Because of Crisis Core, of course! Have you seen the FMV's? SO PRETTY. I want a PSP really bad now...

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Nothing quite like someone going AWOL to get the military gossip mill turning, especially when that "someone" was the Commander-in-Chief. Zack didn't think too much about it, though he knew it bothered some of the brass a lot. Commander Jameson had been all terse lately, and Captain Dulles had taken to brooding—he did that a lot whenever the General was concerned.

Zack was personally more worried about Toriko. He was aware of the fourteen-year-old's crush on him and while he was scrupulously careful never to give her anything to work with, he did enjoy training her and spending time with her when she got out of school. For two and a half weeks now he had been waiting by the Garrison gates for that familiar little figure in black and white, and not even so much as a single soft gleam of a velvet ascot greeted his searching eyes. Zack wanted to know what had happened to her, but she was probably with her dad and her dad was gone for the time being. But the only reason that Zack could think of for the General disappearing was for a top-secret mission, and surely he wouldn't take his daughter along on one of those.

Some of the other guys in the Garrison speculated that maybe the President had gotten the General whacked for something or another. The Armed Forces knew they were more loyal to the General than the Company, and that couldn't sit well with the President at all. The talk in the wind was that the General had been disposed of in order to make way for someone more pliable to the Company's demands, or at least someone who would not inspire such loyalty and admiration. The General had won the war, after all; the President had supplied guns and followers. Zack thought there might be a cult to the General someplace in the military, or at least a horde of dedicated fanboys.

In any case, since the General had left, things had tightened up tighter than a virgin asshole since the brass was determined that the General be pleased with the state of affairs when he came back. This was all well and good in theory, but in practice it meant more drills, jackassier commanders, and being so damn punctual that the difference of a second could mean 100 pushups. Zack had always made a policy to be fifteen minutes early to everything, but some of the more laggardly members of the Garrison were starting to get mighty beefy in the upper body.

Whenever there was an opportunity to leave, Zack and all the others fortunate enough to escape burst out of the Garrison like a raging waterfall, desperate for the pleasures that the military would not permit. Some of the men went boozing or wenching—most of the men did both. Zack liked to explore. Midgar was a fascinating place to navigate on foot, not because of the scenery but because of the street life. In Gongaga, everything had been peaceful and slow, the same every day with the placidity of a well-established river. In Midgar it was impossible not to see something new every day.

Though it was definitely nicer and easier to see when it wasn't raining!

Zack sighed and looked out from under the Midgar Hotel's awning, scowling at the fat drops of rain that God was pissing out of the sky. The rain had come down like something out of the mountains, roaring into Midgar's sky without any warning save a hair-raising crack of thunder. Zack had been wandering around in the park, and the Midgar Hotel was the closest thing with a roof. Under the disapproving gaze of the hotel's doorman, he lowered his head and shook like a dog, flinging as much water out of his thick black hair as he could.

"Hey!"

"Sorry!" Zack straightened and swept his damp hair out of his eyes. "Didn't see you there," he said, turning to face the person he had inadvertently sprayed.

"Obviously," the girl said with a wry twist of the mouth. She was a pretty young lady, about sixteen or seventeen years old, with dark brown hair that was as plastered against her head as her sundress and long skirt was to the rest of her. Zack did his best not to leer as he put his hands together and bowed.

"I'm very, very sorry," he added. "Normally I'm pretty good about not doing that when people are around. I didn't hear you coming up," he said, somewhat surprised.

"Guess your super-senses aren't everything," she said humorously, obviously noticing his eyes.

Zack grinned. "That, or you walk really quietly." He looked her up and down, intending to assess her figure but instead noticing the basket on her arm. "Are those flowers?"

"Sure are," she said, lifting the basket. "Want to take a look?"

"Sure!" Zack took one of the frilly blooms in hand. Perky despite the rain, the fresh yellow flower was attractively flecked with drops of water and smelled quite lovely. He glanced at the young lady, amused by the similarities between her and her wares. "You selling these?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"One gil apiece."

Zack fished in his pocket before producing the required note, and as the girl smiled and tucked it into her purse, Zack reached forward and slipped the flower behind her ear. She blinked in surprise.

"Um. Thank you?" She tilted her head, and chuckled as the flower brushed the top of her ear. She was really quite pretty.

"You're welcome," Zack said, putting his hands in his pockets.

"You know, normally people take the flowers that they pay for."

"So where should I take it?" Zack asked, knowing perfectly well where he wanted to take things.

"Out to lunch," the girl said, and Zack burst out laughing.

"Out to lunch! Seriously?" He looked at her, grinning.

"Yes," she said, her perfectly straight. Then, as Zack looked at her, a fine blush began to rise in her cheeks and she finally broke into an embarrassed little laugh. "That was bad, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, just a little. But you know, I'm hungry too, and we're not doing ourselves any good just standing around."

"True," she agreed, and looked down at herself with a grimace. "Ugh, I'm completely soaked."

"That makes two of us." And with that, Zack stripped off his shirt. He heard a noise of shock from the bellman but dismissed it, wondering instead how the young lady was taking his impromptu naked time. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he was shocked to see her reaching under her white-and-pink sundress to take hold of her long skirt. She noticed him looking and smirked, a cute little motion that made Zack feel hot under his nonexistent collar.

"What?" She said, stepping out of her sopping skirt.

"Nuuuuuuthin'," Zack said, wringing out his shirt and giving it a few hearty shakes. A veritable waterfall, followed by a miniature monsoon, came flying out of the thick blue fabric and Zack put it back on, pleased that it was only slightly damp. The splashing of water on the ground made him look to see the girl expertly twisting her skirt into a tighter and tighter knot before snapping it back out. The wrinkles in the fabric looked almost artistic, but Zack was looking at her still wet pink and white sundress, the white parts almost transparent as they clung to her body with the red shading the most interesting parts from view. He took a good long look at the girl's legs, which were long and very shapely, and thought he might have seen the girl eyeing his chest.

"_Let's up the ante,"_ Zack thought, and unlaced his shoes. As the doorman made a strangled noise of horror, Zack kicked off his boots and unbuckled his belt, whipping it off with a snap. Stepping out of his sopping trousers and standing unselfconsciously in nothing more than his boxers, Zack proceeded to wring out the other half of his clothes. The girl blushed but began snickering.

"What?" Zack asked, looking at her.

"I don't think I've ever seen paisley boxers."

"I got plenty of other interesting ones if you want to see 'em," he said with a lewd grin.

"No thanks," she said, shooting a significant look at his pelvic region. "No thrill of discovery, you know?"

"Hey, it's cold out."

"Suuuure," she said, putting her long skirt over her head and shoulders. Zack watched in interest as flickers of movement took place under the fabric, finally resulting in the girl's pink and white sundress dropping to her ankles. As she stepped out of her dress, Zack suddenly realized that she was probably wearing just her bra and panties under there. He could imagine her as a white lace sort of girl.

"_Awww, shit,"_ he thought as his imagination began to run southward. Hastily Zack wrung out his pants one more time and hopped into them, turning his back to the girl so she couldn't see what was becoming a bigger and bigger problem. Out of the corner of his eye, Zack noticed the bellman was turning red in the face and starting to splutter in indignation. Probably he was thinking that the Midgar Hotel had never seen such antics in all its bajillion year history or something stupid like that.

"Hahaha!"

"What?" Zack looked at the girl.

"I just realized I've been soft-stripping with a guy whose name I don't even know," she said, and Zack laughed.

"That's right, huh? Well, my name's Zack, Zack Bing. You are?"

"Aeris Gainsborough."

"Very nice to meet you, Aeris," Zack said, holding out his hand.

"Nice to meet you too," she said, a twinkle in her eyes. Zack waited as she put her sundress back on over her long skirt, and then pulled her skirt down to settle it back in its original position. It was a fascinating process to watch. "So, where are we going to eat?"

Zack peered out from under the awning. The rain, though still coming down heavily, was letting up a little, which would maybe allow them to make a mad dash from place to place without getting terribly wet. Or there was a hotel right behind them.

"How about here?"

"It looks kind of pricey," the girl said, looking at the inlaid marble walkway and the imposing, disapproving bellman.

"Don't worry, I can afford it."

"Yes, but I'm not sure if _I_ can."

Zack blinked. Then he burst out laughing, saying, "You wanted to split the bill?"

"Well, of course. It's not like we're on a date or anything."

"It will be a sad, sad day when Mama Bing's boy lets a lady pay for anything," Zack said, still chuckling. Turning serious, he said, "Don't worry about it, really. You seem like a fun girl, you can pay me back with your company."

She laughed. "So you're buying my services, is that it?"

"If you consider conversation that sort of service." Zack offered his arm, smiling roguishly. "What do you say?"

"Why not?" Aeris said, twining her slender arm with his. Her skin was warm to the touch and very soft; Zack felt a shiver go down his spine. "Lead the way, Mr. Bing."

"As you will, Miss Gainsborough."

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

Sorry for the long, long hiatus. I just couldn't figure out what to do with the main main story, so I wrote about Zack and Aeris. While it doesn't fit within the large context of PYLO too well, it's nevertheless an important relationship to set up for the rest of the saga—this AU won't be departing too much from the actual FFVII canon, so we must include Zack and Aeris! Hopefully you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it; I'm not entirely sure how to characterize these two, except that Aeris absolutely must be lively and Zack...well, like Zack? He seems like a chipper sort of fellow. Whatever.

Anyway, I might just continue in this vein for a while, writing parts that don't have to do with Sephiroth and Toriko and Rufus until the inspiration comes back to me. What do you think?

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	116. Foxcub Bonus!

PYLO Foxcub Bonus!

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PYLO (Put Your Lights On) is a fanfiction by kleptomaniac0, which therefore by definition mean that the FFVII characters do not belong to the author and ergo do not garner any profit for said person. If sued, the author will simultaneously freeze and combust. This will result in a local hailstorm of flaming comets. Therefore... Yeah, you get the picture.

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I'm gonna write PYLO bonuses until Sephiroth comes back and tells me in detail how he's going to firmly mess up Rufus's head. Toriko is taking a break.

Anyway, I bet you're wondering why this is called the Foxcub bonus. Meryl's name is derived from the Metal Gear Solid series of video games, which I love dearly and are so awesomely well-written that I can't think of any kind of fanfic to make. Meryl, in those games, is a rookie member of FOXHOUND, a special-ops team that is made of freakiness. I like that Meryl a lot; she's very realistic, very feminine and yet powerful, despite being put in the damsel in distress position when Sniper Wolf shoots the hell out of her. It looks like she's going to be the major butt-kicker in MGS4, which makes me HAPPY.

But in any case, MY Meryl is definitely not FOXHOUND material and never will be. She does, however, have a certain spirit of derring-do that thus grants her the title of Foxcub. Enjoy!

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It never got any easier. Losing friends, that is. Meryl had lost plenty in her short lifetime, usually because of moving. She thought she'd gotten used to it, the gentle drifting apart, the less and less frequent phone calls, and finally the dimming and guttering of what had once been the brightest of memories. It hurt like pulling a loose tooth—momentary but necessary discomfort leading to maturity and later, not even a trace of where something valued had been.

But a few times she had lost friends other ways. She blamed that on peer pressure, sometimes her own weird self, when friends would start edging away and not meeting her eyes. Dropped engagements, avoidances and evasions: a few times her so-called friends would join the very cliques they'd eschewed and even turn on Meryl in order to be accepted. Meryl recognized those signs too, though she always hesitated too long to cut the gangrene loose.

It was because she wanted to believe the best in people, that there was some other explanation of the strange behavior. Maybe the friend was stressed and didn't want to unload on Meryl. Maybe she was on the rag—it was certainly a legitimate excuse in the teens. Maybe there was a deep dark secret that she couldn't tell anyone.

OR...she was being held captive in her own house by her own father.

Meryl respected the General but she knew without a doubt he was one odd daddy. He refused to allow Meryl to visit Toriko at their home for any reason whatsoever, though Toriko assured Meryl that he liked her plenty. He never let Toriko go anywhere without a Turk lurking discreetly in the background. And his secretive, overprotective streak extended to Toriko's lovelife, as Toriko routinely used him as an explanation for turning down the nicest, cutest boys Waverly had to offer. In fact, just the day before she had disappeared without so much as a word from school, Toriko had turned down four separate dates. Meryl thought the General was probably aware of those facts and did not like them. Hence... Locking his daughter in the house. What other reason would there for Toriko, straight-A honor roll Toriko to miss school?

Meryl looked up and down the street. This was one of the nicer sections of town, a little ritzier than her own neighborhood; you could barely smell the Midgar smog but certainly see every inch of the glittering skyline. Though Meryl had never been inside Toriko's home, she knew where her friend lived; Toriko had given her the address when Meryl had gone on vacay so they could write letters to each other. One of those very letters was secure inside Meryl's jacket, seeming to burn in the crisp fall air. It crinkled slightly, but the noise was well muffled. So were the clinking and clanking noises from Meryl's backpack, which bulged in places that a normal schoolbag shouldn't.

Security was tight, but not unexpected. Meryl had visited Toriko's building for the past three days after school, closely observing the two guards standing outside and the one inside the reception area. The entryway to Toriko's apartment building stuck out a goodly way from the building, meaning it would be impossible to approach from either side without being detected, and it was essential that Meryl not be detected. If any of the guards gave word to the General that she was coming, he might kick her out of—or off of—the building, considering Meryl's method of approach.

Meryl turned and walked two blocks down the street before crossing. Then she turned and walked one block back, approaching Toriko's building from behind. Like most posh buildings, Toriko's stood in the center of a U of shorter buildings, the smallest of which Meryl was now approaching. Ducking into the alley between the short building and its neighbor, Meryl looked around for a fire escape.

"_Ah-hah,"_ she thought, spotting the pulled-up ladder above her.

She unslung her backpack from her shoulder and set it on the ground, unzipping it with a very definite sort of motion. Inside was a fire extinguisher, a hundred feet of rope, a decently sized rock, and an impromptu grappling hook made out some odds and ends that Dad kept in his workshop at home. Meryl had tested the hook at the park and had found it quite satisfactory for bearing her weight and catching on a variety of surfaces.

Meryl removed the rope and the rock. Tying them together, she slung the rope up and over the balcony of the fire escape, looping the rope twice. Shaking out her arms, Meryl jumped and grabbed onto the rope some six feet above the ground, grunting as she hauled herself up. She was no good when it came to running in gym class, but when it came to ropes she was a positive monkey. Five seconds later she was on the fire escape and climbing upwards.

She was on the roof of the short building a few minutes later and studying the top of Toriko's. Though the top was some thirty feet away and at least forty feet above her, Meryl knew she had more than enough rope to reach the building. Toriko had told her of a high-walled garden atop the complex, so Meryl knew there would be something for her to latch securely onto. Unzipping her backpack for the second time, Meryl removed the fire extinguisher, the rope, and the grappling hook.

"Luck, don't fail me now," she thought as she briskly tied the rope onto the grappling hook. Her plan was simple, to propel the grappling hook onto the top of the building with a blast of concentrated CO2. In theory, it should work perfectly: Meryl had calculated the pressure of the released CO2 with the weight of the grappling hook and the angle of fire, so she was fairly sure she'd be able to hit the top of the building. But theory was no substitute for practice, so Meryl picked up the fire extinguisher, hugged it against her chest, and squeezed the lever as hard as she could. The hook, placed carefully onto the fire extinguisher's modified head with a little cone to catch the main blast, took off with a KAPOW that left Meryl's ears ringing and sent her stumbling back with the force of the explosion. Blinking her watering eyes, Meryl peered through the thick haze of CO2 and saw her grappling hook sail high into the air, trailing the rope behind it. Very low behind it. Her stomach tightened in anxiety as she realized she'd forgotten to take the weight of the rope into consideration—she was only in basic physics at Waverly and hadn't thought about something like that. Meryl gritted her teeth as the hook sank lower and lower. 

"Come on..." she hissed, tracking the hook with her eyes. "Come on, come on..."

Meryl whooped as the hook disappeared over the top of Toriko's building with inches to spare. Releasing the lever on the madly hissing fire extinguisher, Meryl set the canister down and picked up the rope, which was still sitting coiled next to her. At least half of the rope was still available to use, which suited Meryl just fine. Tying a small loop low to the ground, Meryl took hold of the rope in both hands and gave it an experimental tug. The grappling hook slid into view, then caught on the edge of the wall. Meryl grinned and took a deep breath.

"Hey, you there!"

Meryl spun around. There, completely unfactored in her plans, was a building custodian. Several building custodians, actually. They must have come upstairs for a smoke break.

"What are you doing?"

_"Crap!"_ Meryl thought, going cold. _"Mission abort! Mission abort!"_

Taking hold of the rope tightly both hands, Meryl took a flying leap off the side of the building.

"AAAAAH!" She screamed as the wind shrieked around her eyes and ears.

Meryl hit the wall hard, the breath whooshing out of her so fast that spots appeared before her eyes. Her hands almost slipped, but a surge of panic made Meryl cling to it with all the persistence of a limpet. She heard footsteps thundering on the roof behind her.

_"Abort! Abort!"_

Easing her grip on the rope, Meryl slid down in jerks and hops, rapelling down as best she could without a harness or gloves. She knew she wouldn't be able to recover her grappling hook, but that was preferable to being caught and possibly hauled before the police. What would her parents say? How could she explain her perfectly reasonable actions? Their thoughts rang through her head as her feet touched the ground.

_"You had to break into the General's apartment? Why didn't you just call?"_

Her own reply sounded just as loud.

"_Because that would be the _smart_ thing to do!"_

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Author's note:

**PYLO GOT A GENESIS AWARDS NOMINATION FOR BEST DRAMA!**

Apparently the Genesis Awards gives, well, awards to fanfiction. Neophyte Ronin clued me into it and is, in fact, the judge and when I went there OMFG, there PYLO was in Best Drama! I about nearly died. Here is the link, in pieces.

http:// (remove this thing) genesisawards. feel like I must read up on the competition to know what I am up against. XD

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Meryl is fun to write. It's like me if I was slightly more uninhibited and had less fear of injuring life and limb.

The first draft had her actually climbing the building, but then I remembered that Meryl is not superwoman. Hell, it's amazing she even hit the building on the first try! But then again, she is Reeve's daughter, and a certain amount of mechanical talent is expected.

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	117. Chapter 104

Put Your Lights On

10.3.07

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

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Chapter One Hundred and Four

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As a boy, Rufus had grown up in Junon and drifted off every night to the gentle roar of the ocean. As a youth and now a man, Rufus struggled to fall asleep to the irregular honks and mechanical rumbles that plagued Midgar at all day and night. It usually took him about an hour of tossing and turning to fall asleep, maybe about half that if he took medication, but tonight as Rufus glanced at the clock and rolled over, groaning, sleep had yet to come after five fruitless hours in bed. He wondered if Toriko was awake too.

Rufus folded his hands under his head and gazed up at the ceiling, his night vision ever so faintly picking out the seams of the tiles above him. For a while now he had suspected that Toriko was suffering some sort of abuse, though he'd been fairly certain that Sephiroth had been the one inflicting it. He still couldn't recall what had happened in Wutai, but he knew it hadn't been good and probably hadn't been the first time, either. Abuse didn't just pop up out of the blue, though it might seem that way to someone who wasn't watching for the signs. Rufus wanted to kick himself for not watching as carefully as he should have been for a little girl who looked on him as her older brother. Sure, he was busy with work and all and sure, she had her own life and probably better things to do than hang out with someone nine years her senior—but it wouldn't have hurt either of them to spend maybe an hour or so doing something every week, right? He could have done that. He should have. He would.

Sleep was proving frustratingly elusive. For some reason Rufus didn't reach for the pills and instead sat upright, swinging his legs out of bed. The marble floor was cold and made soft sticking noises when he walked over it. Heading downstairs, Rufus went to the kitchen and went about making himself some hot cocoa. He did not turn the lights on; there was enough light coming in through the useless translucent curtains, which were good for nothing except taking the glare off some of the neon signs outside. Instead of sharp letters, the emitted lights were soft blurs on the floor, faintly tinged yellow in addition to whatever color they originally were. As Rufus opened cabinets in search of the hot coca mix, two pinpoints of brilliant green caught his eye.

"Who's there?" He whipped around.

"It's only me." Toriko's voice came softly out the darkness. Right beneath the two brilliant specks of green. Rufus gulped; her eyes were well and truly glowing, little round orbs floating in the air. Gradually her face resolved around them, tinted emerald and viridian. She was sitting at one of the barstools near the kitchen island.

"What are you doing up so late?" Rufus asked, trying to cover his nervousness.

"I have difficulty sleeping in unfamiliar surroundings."

"Oh. Well, do you want some hot cocoa?"

"I don't want to be a bother..."

"It's no bother. You, uh... Well, I guess you wouldn't."

"What?"

"I like to add pepper in mine."

"Pepper?" She was quite startled.

"Yeah. For a bit of bite. Do you want to try?"

"Alright..."

Rufus hunted in the cabinets a bit more before finding the familiar metal canister. Packed to the brim with the darkest, richest cocoa to ever pass through Junon's ports, it was part of Rufus's holiday gift from his mother and pretty much the only thing he ever used. The cocoa was already half-gone with the onset of fall, and would be completely gone by the advent of winter. Ah well. Rufus ladled three generous spoonfuls into two cups each and took out the ground pepper.

"Fancy," Toriko commented as Rufus drew boiling water from a special tap.

"Convenient," he said, handing her a cup. "You might want to wait a while before drinking that."

Toriko cupped her hands around the mug. She seemed particularly small at night, though perhaps that was the way she was sitting. Her downcast eyes still glowed. Rufus wondered if he should say something about it, but decided that there were more important issues at hand.

"Toriko..."

"Yes?"

"If your dad's really gone, who gets you next?"

Toriko was silent. Rufus watched her tilting the cocoa around, her eyes on the flecks of pepper coating the top.

"I suppose my mother's family," she said finally. "That is, if the Company doesn't keep its hooks in me. There's finally a Shin-Ra family avenue into female clothing and cosmetics."

Rufus snorted because it was true. His wardrobe was a walking billboard of Midgar couture, since Sephiroth had refused to play that game. Not that any of it was anything but the highest quality, but still.

"Well, you're only fourteen," Rufus said. "It'll be a while yet."

"Not much of a while," Toriko said. She sipped her cocoa, and Rufus chuckled as her brows went up. "...Interesting."

"You don't have to finish it."

"I didn't say I didn't like it."

"Alright then."

The two of them sipped cocoa for a while, listening to the muted sounds of traffic below. More to kill the silence than anything else, Rufus asked, "Do you _want_ to go to your mother's family?"

"No."

"Oh. Don't like them?"

Toriko's mouth twisted. She rewrapped her hands around her cocoa cup, seemingly wishing to burn the skin off her hands. "Mother was third wife to a nobleman of no great distinction, though he often pretended to be," she said in tones suited to a much older woman. Rufus sipped his cocoa as she added, "His first and second wives were much the same. When Mother came back as a prisoner of war, they shunned her for disgracing herself with the enemy. Had she not been with child, she has no doubt they would have killed her."

"What are you saying, they only let her live because she was pregnant?"

"Yes. Her lord was impotent, you see, or his first two wives were barren." Toriko's mouth twisted again, this time with dark humor. "Had I been born a boy, I would have been the sole heir to a wealthy, if inconsequential, member of Wutai's noble class."

"Does that make you bitter?"

Toriko shrugged and took a sip of the cocoa. "Certainly. When I was proven to be a girl, Mother and I were punted out of the house and left to fend for ourselves on the streets. Mother had a very limited set of skills, so..."

"Prostitution?"

"For a while," Toriko said quietly, without hesitation or rancor. Rufus felt a chill go through him. Toriko unwrapped her hands from the mug and touched the tarnished ring on her middle finger, turning the band slowly. "Then she got sick, and died. She gave me this and some money she'd been saving to go to the Continents, and I stowed away on a boat."

Rufus was quiet. He had no sense of falsehood from Toriko, but everything seemed just a little too fantastic, a little too strange. It stretched his belief, just barely.

"So you ended up in Midgar, then?"

"Yes. Some...people I had met during the journey gave me a ride. When we landed in Midgar, we parted ways and I wandered around until I found where Father was living."

"How'd you do that? His address isn't published."

"But it is fairly well known that he works at the Garrison from time to time. From then on, it is only a matter of tracking him to the apartment."

Rufus whistled. "And how old were you when you did all this?"

"Ten or eleven."

"Damn."

"It was nothing special," Toriko murmured, looking down at the tabletop. "It only sounds a great deal more impressive than it actually is. I was only desperate not to become what my mother had been reduced to. Honestly, I expected Father to behead me the first time we met."

"So why did you go to him?"

"Because I rather hoped he would not."

Rufus stared at Toriko. "You know..."

"Yes?"

"Your life sounds like an adventure novel."

"If only I could skip ahead and look at the ending," she quipped wryly.

"Don't we all." Rufus noticed the time and sighed.

"What?"

"Just noticing that it's not worth trying to go back to sleep," he said. "Work in four hours, you know."

Toriko nodded. Then the oddest thing happened. She cocked her head, her eyes going distant, as if listening to something only she could hear. Then she looked at Rufus, saying, "Will you look for my father?"

"Of course." Rufus took a sip of his cocoa. "It may take some digging. The current buzz is that he's been sent somewhere classified for the past two weeks."

Toriko snorted. "So classified he couldn't tell his only child."

Rufus nodded. He looked her over. She seemed much more her usual self after a bath and some clean clothes; at the moment Toriko was wearing some of Rufus's, from when he'd been roughly her size and age. Apparently Malcolm had been hiding them. "Have you been living by yourself for these past two weeks?"

Toriko hesitated. Then she nodded slowly, her eyes dropping to the ground.

"When Father did not come home, I feared the worst," she said quietly. "You saw me in Wutai, didn't you? I took those swords and some money and hid down in the slums."

"The slums!"

"I did not want to be found in case President Shin-Ra wanted to tie up loose ends." Toriko's knuckles turned white around the mug. "It was unpleasant, to say the least."

"Are you alright? Did anyone hurt you?"

"No. I run quite fast. But I couldn't stand it down there after two weeks, so I came here."

Rufus nodded. It made sense. Some of the stories he had heard about life below the Plate made it seem like another level of hell. But something occurred to him and Rufus frowned, asking, "Where are your swords, then?"

Toriko flushed. "I, um... Sold them."

"You what?"

"It was either my blades or my body. And I had to eat."

Rufus twitched. "You should have come here much sooner."

"I wasn't sure how close you were to your father."

"And how much I'm like him?" He asked, a twist to his mouth. When Toriko nodded guiltily, he sighed and said, "Well, I'm not like him as much as he would like, and more like him than _I_ would like. But I can tell you for sure that I don't go for underage girls."

"Not even when they look like me?"

Rufus blinked. He looked at Toriko, really looked at her, and for the first time noticed that she was growing up. Such a difference three years could make—in Wutai she had been stick thin and as flat as only a child could be. Now she was slender and subtly curvy, no doubt turning heads at Waverly. In a few years, her scope of influence would be larger, and so would the number of people turning to look. Rufus rubbed his chin.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Not at all."

"Not even a little?"

"Not even a hair."

Toriko looked at him solemnly. Then she set down her cup and smiled, looking truly relaxed for the first time since coming to his apartment.

"Thank you," she said. Sliding off her chair, she said, "I believe I will go to sleep now."

"Sure, taunt me, why don't you?" Rufus grumbled.

"I doubt you'd like that very much," she said with a very strange sort of smile, and walked away.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I absolutely hate it when I write something, only to decide it is crap and delete it... Only to realize that no, it was pretty good, and why the hell did I do that? Grarg. It takes a lot to get past that point of ARG, at least for me.

Anyway, sorry for being out of the swing for so long. I tend to write when I'm stressed, and I've been so relaxed lately that the juices just aren't flowing. Creativity is like lymph, only instead of requiring the contraction of muscles to do its job, it needs many different thought processes. I am graduating in less than a year, which means I need to study for the boards NOW and the thought of taking the most important tests of my life so far have stricken me with a bit of panic. Yes, yes they have. Starting today I will be reviewing one meridian a day, in solid detail, for the entire month. I kind of suck at studying, so I figure if I can get through 20 points a day and really work hard on memorizing them, I will be alright. Ish. Bleah.

In any case... Comments, questions, criticisms? Let me have it, I know I'm out of practice.

/\

One more thing. I am hard up for money, so after some deliberation I am going to be selling some of my beloved Final Fantasy VII doujinshi. All of the ones listed have zero porn content and no pairings—I tend to gravitate toward gag stuff more. Here's a list of titles, short summary, and the prices. If you ask, I'll scan the cover and one random page of the doujinshi for your consideration.

1. Ya Rou Zanmai, by C. Youta Fun Mizuno! Short, only about 16 pages w/o the cover. Pointy art, approximate grasp of anatomy, some cute pictures. Pretty much everyone in the cast appears in it. Lots of kanji. $20.

2. Maniac Junkey 5, by 2Capsule Zone, Kyono Sawaki, and Tusk Sakaki. This is 34 pages of alternate reality fun: basically, the casts of Final Fantasies VII-X are put into a Japanese school festival setting where the object of the game is to get a number of cards from teachers (who are also characters from the series). The art is pretty good with appreciable differences between male and female (even if the males are bishie) and nice variety of body shapes. Also, you can pretty much tell what is going on even without knowing a single bit of Japanese. $30.

3. Something in Japanese! By Dragon Castle. This is 50 pages, mostly centering on Cloud and Zack's escape (and Zack's death). This also features the scariest Hojo I have ever seen, though thankfully he appears only on one page. Lots of kanji again, but it doesn't look too hard to look up and there's also a healthy smattering of hiragana and katakana. The art for this is pretty good, though Zack does have a bit of Dragonball hair going on. The expressions are very nice. $35.

4. Caduceo, by Swat.Kikaku. 42 pages. One of the most gorgeous covers I have ever seen, nice art style with a great grasp of proportion and anatomy (even though the eyes are still anime-huge). Features the thoughts of AVALANCHE as they head down to the final battle, and a little of what happens afterwards. $35.

5. Ground Zero, by Astro Boys. 46 pages. RUFUS-CENTRIC, and boy does he look pretty. Nice bit of character development and exposition for Mr. President here, though there is the obligatory Rufus-go-boom shot. Also a nice little short story about him meeting Aeris as children. Lots of hiragana and katakana, so it should be an easy read. Sorta. I don't know, I'm not a Japanese student! $40.

6. Time Limit, by Astro Boys. 38 pages. One of the best gag doujin I have, it requires absolutely no knowledge of Japanese to understand what the heck is going on. Nice art. Also, we have Playboy (or should I say Playgirl, because it's men?) bunnies. Should be an easy read. $40.

I charge $5 for shipping, $10 if not in the US. Happy hunting! Spread the joy of non-porn-doujinshi!


	118. Chapter 105

Put Your Lights On

1.7.08

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter One Hundred and Five

/\/\/\/\/\

Getting out the tank was as easy as threatening to break it—Hojo was very protective of his equipment and not as much of Sephiroth because Sephiroth would heal from glass cuts. Broken glass and other expensive equipment did not heal from Sephiroth. As the silver-haired General rinsed off the sticky Mako bath, he caught flickers of white-coated movement at the corner of his eye.

"What's that?" He asked as the shower turned off. Hojo was fiddling with some sort of case on the countertop.

"Something for you," Hojo said, not looking up from the case. "Ideally I would keep you for additional monitoring, but the Fat Man is asking after you and I have more productive things to do than keep you confined here." Satisfied with whatever he'd been doing at last, Hojo turned the case around for Sephiroth to look at. Nested in a bed of black Styrofoam were twenty-four syringes that glowed bright green—Sephiroth's skin prickled just looking at them. This was not the mute Mako green he was used to in the lab, but rather the burning bright and toxic heart of a Reactor. He looked questionably at Hojo.

"These will do the same for you as the bath does," Hojo said, tapping one of the syringes. Mere glass seemed too fragile for the powerful stuff inside, or so it seemed to Sephiroth—the sound of Hojo's fingertip striking the surface made him wince a little. "More concentrated, of course, but you'll probably need it. I'm taking it that the sound is still there?"

Sephiroth nodded.

"The same?"

"Muted, somewhat. It's not as sharp as it was. But the volume remains."

"Hmph." Hojo closed the case and pushed it to him. "Well, here. Try to inject one of these every twenty-four hours."

"And when I run out?"

"Then come back for more," Hojo said, though the look on his face seemed to say, _"Then you will really be screwed."_

Not feeling a great deal better than he had when he'd first come in, Sephiroth left the lab. His clothes had been washed and pressed, but an indefinable aura of illness clung to them yet—or maybe it was the case. Sephiroth swore he could feel the Mako's pulse reaching out to him, leaching the strength from him, as it swung docilely at his side. The first thing Sephiroth did was stop by his office.

"Welcome back, sir," said his secretary. Sephiroth nodded in acknowledgment, prompting the young man to say, "How was the trip?"

"Fine," he said, though silently he blinked. Trip? Was that the official fiction? Who had started it?

_"I took some liberties when it became apparent you weren't yourself,"_ Toriko murmured softly. _"Though it didn't fool the Turks."_

_"It takes a great deal more than that,"_ Sephiroth agreed. Unlocking his office, Sephiroth set the case on his desk and looked at the paperwork on his desk. He suppressed the urge to groan—at least four reams of paper sat upon his desk. Sephiroth picked up the first stack of them and flipped idly through.

_"If it's sat for this long without being resolved, it must not be important..."_ Sephiroth was heavily tempted to set the stacks on fire. But no. Too many other things in his office were flammable, and something might actually need his consideration. He was studying a request for a SOLDIER unit to clear out some difficult monsters when the desktop phone began to flash at him. He picked it up.

"This is the General speaking."

"It's Rufus. Meet me in my office."

"Yes, sir," Sephiroth said, but Rufus had already hung up. Bossy little twerp. Sephiroth sighed and reached for the case, but thought better of it. He was feeling irritable, and carrying the equivalent of six Mako baths at his side was not a notion to improve his mood. Sighing a rare sigh, Sephiroth left his office and took the elevator to Rufus's floor. As the Vice President of the Company and the heir apparent to the Shin-Ra empire, Rufus naturally had an entire floor of the Building to himself—not to whatever business he was conducting, just to himself. Sephiroth had rarely paid him a visit, seeing as most of their interaction happened in the boardroom, and as such he had only a vague sort of recollection of the floor—bare, mostly, because of Rufus's recent move in, and smelling of the overpriced hempseed cologne he seemed to favor.

It was something of a surprise, then, for Sephiroth to arrive and see the floor in almost the exact same state as it had been years ago. Positively Spartan, it looked rather similar to what a floor belonging entirely to himself might look like: there were no decorations on the two-toned steel walls, no decorative anythings to soften the corners or the incandescent lights overhead. The floor itself was divided in the classic pod structure the current President favored, sequestering secretaries and other menials away from the head honcho who would, naturally, be located in the center. Sephiroth strode out of the elevator in a straight line and walked directly to the large steel doors that were placed squarely in the middle of the floor. He nodded at the middle-aged secretary at the desk beside the door, who nodded back at him and pressed a button on her intercom to announce his presence.

"Send him in," said the familiar voice over the 'com, and the doors hissed open to reveal (how mildly surprising) a bleak and uncompromising office. Monochromatic in shades of grays and silvers with the occasional black or white thrown in, the only bits of color in Rufus's entire office were on Rufus himself—his gingery-blond hair, dark blue eyes, and the natural tan tone of his skin. Sephiroth caught a flicker of navy blue motion at the young man's feet and surmised Dark Nation was in attendance.

"Good morning," Rufus said, not bothering to rise from his seat.

"Good morning." Sephiroth did not bother to salute.

A corner of Rufus's mouth twitched, though in what expression Sephiroth could not guess. As the doors hissed shut behind him, Sephiroth asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this summons?"

"Toriko," said Rufus. Sephiroth blinked, and only a natural blankness, borne of years of stoicism, prevented him from laughing. Apparently taking his silence for compliance, Rufus gestured at the single chair before his desk. "Have a seat."

"_Did you put him up to this?"_ Sephiroth silently asked his daughter.

"_I did ask him to look for you,"_ Toriko replied, sounding slightly embarrassed. _"This grandstanding, however, is entirely his idea."_

And grandstanding it was. Calling him to his office like an errant schoolboy, issuing orders when he had no real authority in the Company—it was laughable. Sephiroth might not have obeyed if not for the fact that Toriko's elaborate farce needed some cementing only he could provide. Rufus still doubted her sordid tale of pregnancy and rape, and while he would never, in a million years, ask his own father about the "incident", he did feel comfortable enough to interrogate Sephiroth. This should be interesting, Sephiroth thought as he sat down in the chair and noted with an inward smirk that even though the chair was made to seat the visitor lower than Rufus's head level, Sephiroth was still tall enough to look him squarely in the eye. If that made Rufus uncomfortable, the young man didn't show it.

"You've been gone three weeks now," Rufus said without preamble. "Where were you?"

"Classified." Which was true enough, Hojo's labs weren't exactly open to the public.

"Funny, I found no official records of the sort."

Sephiroth merely raised a brow. He felt Toriko sigh.

_"What?"_

_"Now _you're_ doing it."_

"_Doing what?"_

She sighed again. _"Never mind."_

"I looked over the security tapes," said Rufus, leaning back and steepling his fingers. He looked eerily like his father had in his younger, pre-Fat Man days, and Sephiroth suppressed a shudder. At least he wasn't growing facial hair. "You came into the office, but didn't go out."

If one went by the security tapes, sure. Sephiroth knew where the cameras were. When the tinnitus had become unbearable, he had left the Building in stealth mode, not wishing anyone to have a record of less than perfect strength. He'd taken the service elevator, the same one Toriko had used to escape three years ago, down to the parking garage and from there had stepped between camera sweeps to get to his car. It was easier than one might have thought: the Turks had a hazing ritual that consisted of dodging the cameras, and every time someone was caught on tape it meant doing some strange favor for either Reno, Rude, or Tseng. Such were the lives of the blue suits. But anyway.

"Just in case you left via Deepground, I checked the logs," said Rufus, and Sephiroth blinked. He hadn't thought the boy would be so thorough, but then again Toriko had fed him the story. Naturally he would check up. "Interesting that you'd take your daughter into a high-security area, huh?"

Sephiroth continued to say nothing. He was not skilled in the art of subterfuge. When he wanted someone to believe something or do something for him, Sephiroth presented things in a logical manner that left no room for disagreement. Occasionally fear or "coercion" was involved, but in any case the operation was straightforward. However, Toriko's tangled web of lies demanded quite a different approach. It only held together so long as the right amount of tension was employed, and while she had set up the framework in a masterful manner, it would be up to Sephiroth and Rufus to cement it. Thus, Sephiroth sat back and waited for Rufus to give him the right opening, since the boy was nearly convinced and needed only a few pokes in the right direction. Once those weak points were identified...

"I talked to the scientist in charge, a man named Genesis." Rufus looked at Sephiroth, his eyes hardening. "He didn't say much about your visit, but I did gather you two were there for an operation. A very specific sort of operation."

"You've done your homework," Sephiroth said. It was a meaningless concession, but Rufus pounced on it.

"A bit more than that, I'd say," Rufus said, his voice becoming terse. "I began to ask myself why a secretive, controlling man would take his quiet, obedient, very pretty young daughter into a secret facility under his control for an unspecified medical operation."

Sephiroth looked at him coldly. Toriko sighed. He could feel her grumbling about how the two of them just did not like each other.

"Afterwards, you took her out for cider. You spent time obviously entertaining her and trying to keep her in good spirits." Rufus leaned forward over the desk. "Sounds like a payoff to me."

"_Naturally," _Sephiroth thought sourly. _"Naturally he would blame me before family."_

"What really happened, Sephiroth?" Rufus asked, his eyes narrowing. "What's the real reason you've been gone? What's the real reason Toriko turned up at my house, terrified and uncared for?"

_"Nice phrasing,"_ Toriko murmured. _"Had you a guilty conscience..."_

Luckily, Sephiroth did not. Instead he fixed Rufus with a burning glare. It was a little-known fact that while the Mako lights in a SOLDIER'S eyes often were an indicator of mood, the amount of glow could be controlled. No, it was not like having built-in nightvision goggles: it was more like wiggling one's ears or rolling one's tongue. Sephiroth had excellent control over the lanterns in his eyes, and he took particular delight in creating what was commonly referred to in the armed forces as "the Hellfire look". Unlike the normal flashes or strobelights of SOLDIER anger, Sephiroth could modulate the glow of his eyes in such a way that they actually looked to be on fire. It was good enough to make Rufus pale, however unconsciously. Sephiroth felt waves of envy from his daughter.

"Why don't you ask the President?" Sephiroth said in a low growl. He imagined an impudent Toriko for the special sort of heat needed to convey real ire, and to make his words an order, not a suggestion or question. "Why don't you ask Hojo? Why don't you—" He cut himself off, as if realizing he had said too much. Clasping his hands, he pressed them to his lips as if struggling to contain himself. In a way, he was.

_"How do I steer him onto the right track? It's no good if he thinks _I_ raped Toriko..."_

"Why did you mention Hojo?" Rufus asked, frowning.

_"Because I was there,"_ Sephiroth thought. _"Because he's to blame."_ Aloud he said nothing, only closed his eyes.

Rufus was quiet for a while. Then, in a move so brazen it could only be for the purpose of provocation, Rufus pressed the button on his intercom and said, "Sheila, I want you to retrieve the video records of the last three weeks from Hojo's labora—"

Toriko gasped as Sephiroth moved, his hand shooting forward to grab Rufus's around the wrist. Rufus blanched, though his expression did not change. For a long moment they stared at each other, both of them displaying a certain mixture of bravado and fear. At length Rufus cleared his throat and moved his finger off the intercom button...

Which was labeled "Line 1". Rufus hadn't been calling his secretary, he'd merely been bluffing. Sephiroth kicked himself for overreacting.

_"No, no, this is good!"_ Toriko sounded unusually bright. _"You've played exactly into his hands. Now he knows there's something there you don't want him to see!"_

_"And this is a good thing how?"_

_"It supports the punishment theory!"_

The punishment theory? Ah yes, that Sephiroth was being incarcerated for threatening the President... For raping Toriko. Sephiroth hated acting hastily, thoughtlessly, but he had to admit that maybe Toriko was right. There was something to be said for raw emotion.

_"Though what I don't want him to see are records of..._back then…_"_

Rufus seemed taken aback. As Sephiroth let go of his hand and slowly went back to his seat, the younger man rubbed his hand—Sephiroth wondered if he had broken any bones, or perhaps strained something. Wrists were tricky. If he was in pain, Rufus didn't show it as he said in an unexpectedly quiet voice, "Well, well."

Sephiroth did not like the sound of that "well, well".

"You know, I've asked my old man about your disappearance," Rufus said, looking at him. "And he won't say a thing about it. He gets tight-lipped and disapproving. Hojo gets the same way. And now here you are, pulling nearly the same face. I guess I don't need to ask about your whereabouts, do I? No, the real question is... Why?"

Why! This was exactly the opening he needed, though it was a hairline crack instead of a good foot in the door. Sephiroth wondered how to proceed. In some ways, this confrontation was a duel, but from there the analogy failed. Sephiroth was always able to read an opponent in the shift of weight, the subtle turn of muscle. Brains did not lend themselves to that sort of observation.

Toriko's mental silence was staggering.

_"Be quiet!"_ Sephiroth snapped, though she was being just that. He was not accustomed to jumping into people's heads while he was looking right at them! He usually waited until he was someplace calm and could concentrate without interruption, where even if his meddling was noticed, it would not be traced to him.

_"Do you want me to do it?"_

Sephiroth growled and willed his thought at Rufus's head. At once he winced; it was like looking at a food processor in motion, except where most people saw a blur of finely diced chunks, Sephiroth could see each individual piece being sliced, tumbled, sliced again, and so on, over and over again in a circle, chopped finer and finer until there was nothing but puree and no sign at all of the individual components. Only taste would betray the initial ingredients, and Sephiroth was not exactly sure how to "taste" this blend of thoughts.

Rufus seemed to be the kind of thinking aloud. "Why would you, Hojo, and my old man all hide something about your disappearance? Why would you take Toriko for an operation? Why would she come to me... You haven't even asked about that."

"It makes sense," Sephiroth said reluctantly. "You're of a certain position in the Company, with a certain power both in and out of it. She likes you. She feels safe with you." Sephiroth looked at Rufus, willing himself to behave as if he didn't know the answer to his own question. "How is she?"

"Fine," was the indifferent answer. Had Toriko not been rolling her eyes in his head at that moment, Sephiroth would have snapped at Rufus for his carelessness, his deliberate callousness. Instead he just glared at Rufus until the younger man said, "She's... Healthy. Safe. Missing you. What do you want?"

Sephiroth sighed, as if in relief. Instead of answering, he said, "What did she tell you?"

"One of two distinct possibilities," said Rufus. Sephiroth thought that was good, if there were only two theories possible in Rufus's mind.

_"There had better be,"_ Sephiroth heard Toriko grumbling. _"He doesn't need to be drawing extraneous conclusions."_

Extraneous conclusions, what a little bookworm. Sephiroth suppressed his mental chuckle and focused on Rufus.

"Personally I don't know which one makes more sense," Rufus said, sitting back in his chair. "I know which one I _want_ to make more sense, but that's hardly constructive."

"You _want_ me to be raping my daughter," Sephiroth said flatly.

Rufus twitched. "No! It's just that... That..."

Sephiroth leaned forward on his knees. When he'd been a young soldier in the army, some of the commanding officers had been concerned by his psychotic battlefield behavior. Most of them had said so straight to his face, but a few of them had taken him aside and tried to get into his head in a kindly, priestly sort of matter. Sephiroth remembered them now as he tried to fix Rufus with the same compassionate gaze.

"It's just that what, Rufus?"

"He doesn't _like_ dark hair," Rufus burst out passionately. "My mother's blonde, his secretaries are blonde—his _dog's_ blond, for god's sakes, and you're so blond that...that... And he _hates_ the Wutaiese! He always says that if he could have picked up a gun and gone to war, he would have!"

"That's what's bothering you?" Sephiroth said in surprise.

"Yes! And also, what sort of presents would he buy Toriko? I've never seen her wearing any jewelry and that's what she says he got her..."

"You obviously pay no attention to her hair."

"What?"

"Her hair." Sephiroth made a twirling gesture at his head, not quite the same sign one used to indicate 'crazy'. Toriko grumbled as he said, "Her hairpins?"

"Her hairpins... Oh, you mean the Wutaiese ones?" Rufus considered. "Well... He _would._ They're ethnic, it probably made sense to him."

"_Those _kanzashi_ are a present from _Mother!" Toriko hissed. _"Now I can't wear them ever again!"_

"_Why not?_"

"_Would _you_ want to wear something from a man who raped you?"_

"_Ah. Well... She can send you more."_

He felt her hissing at him but was more concerned with Rufus's reaction. The hairpins seemed to soothe his ruffled feathers, and the young man was nodding now, seemingly settling things to himself. After a moment, he stood up and looked at Sephiroth, his eyes serious.

"I'm still not completely convinced," he said. "But it's unlike Toriko to lie, and even more unlike you. Suffice to say something bad has happened and she feels safe with me, right?"

"Yes."

Rufus nodded and ran his hand through his hair. "Alright. So now..."

"You'll have to continue."

"What?"

"_What?"_ Toriko thought suspiciously.

"I'm going to be leaving soon." Sephiroth said, and felt Toriko bristling. Rufus merely frowned. "The President is displeased with me, which means a stay away from Midgar. He's given me a long-distance assignment."

"_He has done no such thing!" _Toriko hissed. _"Father, what are you _doing?"

"_This is for your own good,"_ Sephiroth thought at her sternly. _"The ringing is still there and not getting any better. I need to get out of Midgar for a while and get a handle on it before staying around you. Or are you telling me that you're willing to repeat the most recent two weeks we had together?"_

"_It was not comfortable by any means, but—"_

"_I nearly strangled you."_

"_You were distraught—"_

"_No, Toriko. I was angry. I was intensely, irrationally angry. I could have killed you and I can't forgive myself so easily. Until I can control my temper with you—"_

_"You_ do! _Father, you don't strike me or insult me—"_

_"No, I just lock my hands around your neck—"_

_"_One_ time!"_

_"It would only have to be one time, and it would be_ easy."

Toriko was silent. She seemed stunned. Sephiroth took the opportunity to speak to Rufus.

"I will be gone for a month, at least, travel time and such considered. It's a nothing assignment, some West Continent town needing help with monsters..." Sephiroth rose to his feet. "I will be leaving tomorrow morning at 0600, and things need to be arranged tonight."

"Do you want Toriko back, then?" Rufus asked.

"I'll pick her up from school," Sephiroth said as he glanced at the clock. "She always likes that. The Turks will drop her off at your apartment at five o' clock; I assume you'll be back from work by then?"

"Uh, yes..." Rufus seemed nonplussed by his brisk manner. "Where are you going again?"

Sephiroth thought back to his office, to the request he had just looked at before coming to Rufus's office. "Nibelheim," he said finally, and left.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

BWAHAHAHAHAHA.

Now the answers to some questions.

1. Sephiroth does not poke Hojo for information about his parents because he no longer cares. Even with Toriko in his life, he has no interest in his biological parents because he knows, very clearly, that he is a product of his environment and he does not see any reason why knowing who his parents were would change any of that. Also, he doesn't want to know if he was taken from them or donated coldly to science. What child would?

2. Pepper-cocoa mix. Typically I make the chocolate as rich and tasty as I want it, and then dust the top with fresh-ground pepper until there's a thin, complete ring all the way around the edge. With preground pepper, I sprinkle a little more. Stir in to let the pepper permeate the cocoa, and then enjoy.

/\/\/\/\/\


	119. Chapter 106

Put Your Lights On

Put Your Lights On

3.15.08

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter One Hundred and Six

/\/\/\/\/\

"Sir, General Shin-Ra is here to see you."

President Shin-Ra looked at the intercom, blinking. "Send him in," he said evenly, hiding his surprise, and sat back in his chair, waiting for a flicker of movement from one of the two staircases leading up to his private floor. So Sephiroth was back, and President Shin-Ra even knew where he'd been—Hojo had told him of the silver-haired man's condition almost immediately—but somehow President Shin-Ra didn't think Sephiroth was checking in just for the hell of it. He was an obedient servant as far as things went, but there was little to no loyalty in him. Whatever feelings there might have been in the past...

He'd needed a practical demonstration of what Hojo's expensive "Project Genesis" was all about, and one unremarkable day he'd gone into the lab. President Shin-Ra clearly recalled his disgust at the heavy tang of metal and Mako in the air, at the sneering intellectual superiority in Hojo's voice even as his manner oozed obeisance. A man more given to fanciful imaginings might have compared Hojo's lab to Hell, but President Shin-Ra was a man grounded in fact. He'd squashed his disgust and paid attention to the semi-grandiose ramblings coming from Hojo's mouth, filtering the pertinent details of Project Genesis from Hojo's complaints and compliments about the specimens. Then he'd actually seen them.

The boys—Genesis and Sephiroth—were sparring when he first saw them. Two flashing figures in a room of stark and featureless white, they attacked each other at a speed almost beyond comprehension with swords made of dull black metal, and flashing lights grafted into their skin tracked their every movement, highlighting them in trails of glowing red and green and yellow. Their speed had taken his breath away, though Hojo assured him that they weren't even being serious. President Shin-Ra had been forced to agree, for when there came a break in the fighting and the combatants had split, Sephiroth had stopped right in front of him and the boy hadn't even been breathing hard. Even separated by a thick wall of reinforced glass, President Shin-Ra had felt the boy's presence against his skin as clearly as though that slender fourteen-year-old body had been pressed hard against him. Sephiroth hadn't been breathing hard, but President Shin-Ra hadn't been breathing at all. That porcelain pale skin, those ethereally alien features, the perfection in every line and plane...

...It was rather like seeing an angel made flesh.

The memory of such sweet times lingered still, so when Sephiroth stepped onto his private floor, President Shin-Ra was not terribly put out with him. Nevertheless, there were issues that needed addressing.

"Good of you to finally drop by," President Shin-Ra said as Sephiroth came to stand before his desk. From a young angel of white-hot brilliance, Sephiroth had cooled into something rather like a pillar of platinum, or perhaps mercury. Like he had since the very first day President Shin-Ra had seen him, he still moved too quickly to see or anticipate. Therefore, President Shin-Ra was not quite as surprised as he could have been when Sephiroth spoke.

"It won't be for long. I'm leaving Midgar for a while."

"For what reason?"

"I assume Hojo has told you that I'm not well."

"In a way. He said you had a headache."

Sephiroth scoffed softly. President Shin-Ra knew what he was thinking, that the greasy little man couldn't haven chosen a better way to trivialize what he was going through. Sephiroth could be one prickly little bugger, though he'd die rather than admit he was emotional.

"Yes, if Midgar is a village," Sephiroth said dryly. "It's severe enough to affect my mood, and I'm sure you don't want an irritable and high-powered SOLDIER in the city."

"That could prove to be a problem, yes." President Shin-Ra leaned back, steepling his hands. "How long would you be away?"

"A month, at the very least." Upon seeing President Shin-Ra's raised brows, Sephiroth added, "Considering that I've never taken a day off in my career—"

"No, no, it's not that," said President Shin-Ra. "Far be it from me to begrudge you your vacation time! Nevertheless, it's a significant amount of time."

"My subordinates are more than capable of handling anything that arises," Sephiroth said dismissively.

"_And you've never been a paperwork person anyway," _President Shin-Ra added silently to himself.

"Well, if you say so," President Shin-Ra said. "Where are you going?"

"Nibelheim."

"Nibelwhat?"

Sephiroth looked at him with a mix of amusement and annoyance. "You know how I am," he said. "I couldn't take an _actual_ vacation."

"So you'll be working?"

"In an active capacity. Nibelheim has sent reports of strange monsters out of the mountains..."

"Ah, that's one of our reactors, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"You might as well run an inspection on it as long as you're there." President Shin-Ra held up his hand to forestall Sephiroth's objection. "Not to worry, there's only some readouts and things you need to look at—very easy to see anything wrong, it'll show up in red or some such. Will you be going alone?"

Sephiroth thought for a moment, which was a sure sign that yes, he had been about to do just that. "No," he said finally. "There's a SOLDIER who recently made First Class in an unofficial capacity, and he needs to get a handle on his strength."

"That's all?"

"There aren't many monsters."

President Shin-Ra shrugged. "You know best." He cocked his head at Sephiroth. "What about Toriko?"

"I've spoken to Rufus," said Sephiroth. While President Shin-Ra stared in shock, he went saying, "He's agreed to serve as her guardian for the time being."

"Rufus?"

"Yes, sir. Your son."

As if he needed any clarification as to which Rufus he'd meant... "Rufus is a good boy, but not entirely..."

"I beg to differ, sir. Toriko has been enjoying his hospitality for the better part of a week now and she has nothing but praise."

"But of the matter of discipline—"

"She's a quiet, studious, well-mannered young lady and remarkably self-sufficient," Sephiroth said evenly. "She also views Rufus as her uncle, so there is no question of obedience."

"My boy is not mature," President Shin-Ra began to say, but Sephiroth smoothly cut him off.

"Don't worry, sir. Toriko will make sure he eats his vegetables."

President Shin-Ra laughed despite himself. "You seem very confident in your daughter's abilities, Sephiroth."

"More so than in some of the armed forces," Sephiroth agreed. He cocked his head in the barest approximation of a bow. "If there's nothing else, Mr. President, I'd best make some preparations."

"Yes, yes. We'll see you back in a month then."

Sephiroth nodded again and left. President Shin-Ra sighed and rubbed his temples. It was really against his nature to have such a free hand with a marked subordinate, but the fact of the matter was that you could not truly command Sephiroth to do anything—he had the enormous weight of public favor behind him, the full support of the armed forces, and if nothing else he could pop your head off like a daisy if you rubbed him the wrong way. You did not pressure Sephiroth. You did not push him. You did not annoy him any more than necessary, and he would get the job done, whether it was paperwork or genocide.

In any case, President Shin-Ra thought a vacation was a splendid idea. In the entire eighteen years Sephiroth had been a Company employee, he'd never taken a day off even once—no doubt Sephiroth was close to snapping, and this strange headache he was complaining of was probably some unconscious self-justification to get some R&R. Strange that he wasn't taking his child along, but perhaps she was part of the problem. President Shin-Ra rather thought Sephiroth wanted to relive the simpler days, when all he'd had to was hack and slash and make sure everything in sight was dead. If such a thing kept him happy and compliant, President Shin-Ra did not mind. Hadn't he just wished him bon voyage?

Nevertheless, it wouldn't do to have him _completely_ unsupervised. President Shin-Ra couldn't really command Sephiroth, but he could command the Turks. Reaching out to one of the many buttons on his desk, he pressed the one that gave him a direct line to the Turks.

"Tseng? Good, you're there. I want you to dispatch a couple of Turks to a certain town…"

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

That last sentence is my concession to Final Fantasy VII: Last Order. I enjoyed that animation very much, even though a part of me was going, "Waaaaaitaminnit, that's not how it happened in the game!!" Apparently no matter how hard you try, you can't turn off that inner stickler.

/\

I've been receiving some interesting reviews lately. If you look on the review page, you can see what they are, but please—just read, don't reply. I don't want to persecute anyone (without a good reason, anyway; I do stand up for myself, after all), and I encourage all kinds of active debate. If someone doesn't like what I wrote, I'm perfectly happy to keep their flame up: it's just a bit of bitterness that makes me enjoy the complimentary reviews all the more. But anyway, the interesting reviews...

There's nothing quite like ill-wishing and oblique threats to one's person to make one realize that there's no pleasing everybody. I take pains to try and not offend people in real life and online, but of course there's always someone out there who can take offense at something. I don't really mind—it makes me a bit more conscious of my behavior, and politeness is always a virtue. Plus, I'm going into a business where I'll have to do a fair bit of counseling, so it's to my advantage to be able to take things in stride, but my recent experiences with the interesting reviewer is that not everyone does. Sometimes when people are very passionate about something, it makes them mean: sad, but unfortunately true, because how else can you explain the amount of crap going on in the world today? Religious extremists, hard-headed politicians, even murderers: they all do what they do because they feel so strongly about it. I've moderated myself out of most strong emotion so I don't completely empathize with these people, but I academically understand where they're coming from.

Anyway, I mention all of this because it made me count my blessings. In different circumstances I could have been a very mean and prickly person, but my home environment, my friends, my family, and my experiences with all kinds of people have made me into someone I'm proud of being. If I had a wish for the whole world, it would be that everyone would have good self-esteem.

/\/\/\/\/\


	120. Chapter 107

Put Your Lights On

7.06.08

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter One Hundred and Seven

/\/\/\/\/\

Sephiroth sat in his car, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He was parked outside the gates of Waverly, waiting for Toriko to come out—she seemed to be taking her time. It both suited him fine and annoyed the hell out of him, but there wasn't much he could do about her lollygagging unless he started shouting at her, and shouting wasn't exactly an attractive option when this would be the last time he'd see her for quite a while. Sephiroth would have sighed with boredom and exasperation except that his PHS buzzed loudly in his pocket, signaling a call. Sephiroth took it out and flipped it open.

"This is the General."

"Wassup, sir?" Only Zack could be so cheerily impertinent. "You sent me a mail about a mission a while ago?"

"I did. Are you ready to leave Midgar?"

"What, now?"

"Tomorrow morning, 0400 hours."

"Oh, well I'm fine then."

"You had something planned tonight?"

"Hehe... Sort of."

Knowing Zack, a girl was involved. Sephiroth chose not to pursue the subject. "Next time, read the mail I send you before calling back."

"I did," said Zack, sounding somewhat surprised. "All it said was that you wanted to take me on a mission. I figured I should call for details."

"What?"

"Yeah." Sephiroth heard some beeps. "See?"

Sephiroth held the PHS away from his ear as it chirped at him, and going to the mail menu he found the mail in question. It said, very simply, "We're going on a mission." Sephiroth puzzled at it for a while, confused by its succinctness yet recognizing it as something he'd written.

_"But I thought I'd sent off something more detailed..."_

Sephiroth looked over his shoulder. Sitting in the backseat was Hojo's Mako case, silent and full of deadly green fluids. He wondered if its presence were to blame for his memory lapse and scowled at it briefly.

"I see," said Sephiroth back into the PHS. "Forgive me. There's been a lot on my mind lately."

"The last mission?" Zack asked lightly, but Sephiroth could just hear curiosity eating the boy up from head to toe.

"Among other things." Sephiroth rubbed his head. He wished painkillers worked for him like they were supposed to: his advanced metabolism reduced the efficacy of any drug to practically nothing. The persistent whine in his head had subsided further, becoming more of a low drone, but it was still loud enough to interfere with normal hearing and make everything seem more irritating. "Be ready to go tomorrow at 0400. We'll leave from the Garrison and make a stopover in Junon for a Gelnika."

"Sweet. Should I take anything special with me, materia-wise?"

"Don't bother. It's just a reactor check-up and a monster flush."

"Alright."

"One more thing: take the Buster Sword."

"The Buster Sword?" Zack squawked indignantly. "That's a training weapon!"

"And you're coming along so you get some combat experience as a First," said Sephiroth. He made a note to himself to get the paperwork changed to reflect Zack's new status. It wasn't going to be an empty promotion, even if it had been unexpected. Zack was certainly First Class material.

"But it's so UGLY. It's a meat cleaver, not a sword!"

"All swords are meat cleavers. Otherwise, they're not doing their job." Sephiroth looked up as a flicker of motion caught his eye. There was Toriko, finally, coming towards him with a strange expression on her face. It took Sephiroth a moment to realize that it was a look of complete and utter contentment, and chills of deep foreboding made him shudder all over. "0400 hours. General out."

"Good afternoon, Father," Toriko said as she opened the door and slid into the car. Her smile was still very bright and pleasant, and the sickly-sweet tone of her usual passive aggression was completely absent. Sephiroth looked at her suspiciously and probed her mind. Even her thoughts were bland and inoffensive, but it didn't make him feel any better.

"Why aren't you angry?" He asked bluntly. "Even a few hours ago, you were less than pleased with me."

"Well, anger with the inevitable is so counterproductive, don't you think?"

He turned to face her completely and stared forcefully into her eyes. Toriko blinked, but no familiar flicker of fear crossed her face. There was, however, a bit of annoyance.

_"I am your daughter,"_ she thought at him. _"No lackwit phony has mysteriously taken my place."_

"Is it so hard to believe that I can simply _not_ be angry with you?" She asked pointedly.

"After all the struggle you've put up, it seems highly unlikely," he said. Nevertheless Sephiroth turned back to face the wheel and turned the car on. It came to life with a subtle, subbass purr.

"Well, I spoke with Meryl."

"Meryl?" Sephiroth could not possibly see how speaking to Reeve Tuestsi's peculiar child could possibly make anyone calmer.

"Yes. Did you know she's attended five different schools?"

"Is that a lot?"

"In eleven years? Certainly." Toriko smoothed down her skirt, saying, "She told me she used to hate moving. Every friend she'd ever made just stopped talking to her when it wasn't immediately convenient. No PHS calls, no letters. No mails. They just weren't there anymore.

"And for a really long time, Meryl blamed her dad. Mr. Tuesti has moved the family with every promotion he received, and now that he's at the top, well… There's nowhere else to go. But up until a few years ago, Meryl still thought it was because of him that all her friends went away."

"Is there a point to this?" Sephiroth demanded.

Toriko smiled patiently. Sephiroth didn't like it. "A while ago, Meryl met one of her very old friends. They talked, and the friend asked Meryl why she hadn't called or anything. Meryl realized that in order to keep friends, you have to make an effort. And also that her dad really just did what was best. Meryl told me that her friend was, well… Not that well off. In a lot of ways."

"A prostitute?" Sephiroth asked dryly.

"No, but coming close," Toriko said without rancor.

"You'd know."

She tilted her head. "Are you trying to make me angry?"

"What? No."

"Because it seems like you want me to be angry, Father." Toriko smiled, once again completely beatific. Sephiroth resisted the irrational urge to strangle her. "I will support whatever decision you feel is best. I love you very much."

Sephiroth glared. Toriko smiled back. He had to turn away and start driving. Eventually Toriko looked out of the window, not concentrating her sweet and trusting eyes on him any more.

_"Was that her tactic?"_ Sephiroth thought, seething. _"To make me feel so guilty that I don't _want_ to leave? If she'd been angry, I would have had to argue with her for the wisdom of my action, but now... Now..."_

"So you aren't worried about Hojo?" He asked, looking at her.

"No."

"Not in the least?"

"Not really."

She was lying. She _had_ to be lying. But two could play that game.

"Well, that's good," he said, making his voice light and cheerful. "I'm glad to know that you're growing up into such a fine young lady."

"Thank you, Father," Toriko said, looking at him and smiling with what seemed to be genuine pleasure. "That's so wonderful to hear from you."

"Well, I thought it was appropriate, considering that I may be gone for_ a very long time."_

"Enjoy your trip," she practically chirped.

Sephiroth could not recall being so profoundly frustrated in the last ten years. Seething, he drove home in silence and was powerfully, hatefully aware of Toriko pleasantly humming like she had not a care in the world. She had to be lying about her feelings. He _knew_ she couldn't possibly be so unconcerned with his departure. She wanted him to stay... Didn't she?

_"That's ridiculous. What possible reason could she want me to leave for? Then again... She _will_ be staying with Rufus… No! No! That's ridiculous! She's only fourteen! Nothing would happen._

_"Yes, like nothing happened to _ME."

By the time Sephiroth and Toriko walked through the apartment door, Sephiroth was fully convinced Toriko was playing some sort of wicked mind trick on him. But he wasn't sure what it was, and the idea that it might be anything was driving him crazier than the whine in his head. Toriko disappeared into her room without so much as a backward glance, and with an explosive sigh Sephiroth sat down at the kitchen counter, growling softly. Stupid children. Stupid daughters. Stupid caring.

Sephiroth looked at the Hojo case. It sat at his feet, leaning against the barstool he was sitting on, and he could feel the vials inside reaching out to pulse softly against his feet. He looked at the clock and scowled: he'd left the bath only a few hours ago. He was supposed to take one vial every twenty-four hours. Sephiroth wasn't even sure why he was thinking of taking one in the first place, knowing that the injections would be anything but relaxing. He rubbed his face, wondering what was becoming of him.

_"The time away will do me some good," _he told himself. _"It will be good to be doing work again. Simple, plain work. No city noise, no paperwork... No voice in my head, even though I've grown accustomed to her there. I'll feel better after a rest. Clear-minded. Relaxed. Sane again."_

"Toriko, I'm going to sleep," he called. "Cook for yourself."

"Yes, Father."

Her freakishly smooth compliance still rankled, but Sephiroth shook it off. As he left the kitchen and walked down to the hall to his bedroom, he wondered how well she really would adjust to living alone. Toriko knew how to cook, clean, do laundry, and forge his signature for any legal things that might arise. He couldn't imagine anything like that would, but it was good to be prepared. Rufus would take care of her while he was away.

_"Or I'll know why. And if he lays one hand on her, I'll fly back here and rip his head off. Or maybe I'll start with his limbs."_

The thoughts of violence were oddly soothing. By the time Sephiroth had stripped down and changed into his sleeping pants, he was reliving his memories of war and slaughter and he drifted off dreaming of the freedom that came with the kill. He was so involved that he only absently noticed Toriko being very, very quiet.

/\/\/\/\/\

Author's note:

I had a hard time writing this chapter because I want to get Sephiroth to freaking Nibelheim already. You know when you have point A and point B, but the line between them is not drawn yet? It's like that. Really annoying, but the line is also necessary. Bleah. Stupid narrative structure, having RULES and stuff.

I've been a busy little beaver. Lots of stress from school and family health issues makes me procrastinate on writing because of studying for tests that, you know, would let me practice a skilled profession. X_X I miss being on . I miss writing. I even miss getting weird reviews, because darn it if they don't make for some funny stories later.

In other news, my boyfriend gave me a PSP and Crisis Core for my birthday. I WIN SO HARD. I'm nearly through the New Game Plus, but for the life of me I can't figure out how to unlock all the missions. Maybe I should read a strategy guide or something… I never look at them the first time I play a game, but the second time is hey! Anything goes. After some consideration, I've decided that I may sneak Angeal into this particular universe, though he's going to be an AU version and much older than he officially is supposed to be. Does anybody else think his face looks peculiar? His concept art looks all hawt and rugged, but in the actual game his face is all weirdly smooth, like they tried to androgynize him and failed.

Also, Tseng's eyes are TOO BIG. They really should not be that big.

And while I love Sephiroth, you all know I love Sephiroth, why the HELL does he still look like he did in Advent Children? He looked like a crackfiend in Advent Children! Dark rings under his eyes, lips that are too dark for anything except malnutrition or purple lip gloss... And his mouth is so narrow! And his arms are willowy and effete. ARGH!

To me, Sephiroth will always be wearing his original design (I hate his new coat, I bet it clinks when he walks) and look like he does in Ehrgeiz, this one bizarre little fighting game. Look at the art they use for his face—the black and white lines, not the colored art (because the colored art just looks strange). He actually looks MASCULINE and not like RuPaul with minimum makeup. Sorry Nomura, but it's true. You have GIRLED HIM UP. ::cries in a corner::

-

One more thing. In the chapter where Zack got mortally wounded and consequently patched up, I wrote that he was using the Buster Sword. I changed my mind upon finding an even earlier chapter that said the Buster Sword was a training weapon. That's my story—literally!—and I'm sticking to it.

/\/\/\/\/\


	121. Chapter 108

**People still read this? Dang.**

Put Your Lights On

11.30.08 (Yes, I started trying to write this TWO YEARS AGO. What the hell.)

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter One Hundred and Eight

/\/\/\/\/\

Like most girls in Midgar, Meryl had a custom ringtone for her PHS. After a long and agonizing search among things like "Love is Sex and Magic" and "Gangsta Pride from the Undaside", Meryl finally found something that suited not only her personality, but also would fit every person who was likely to call her on her private line. That was why, at 5.30 AM on one bright Thursday morning, Meryl woke up with a jerk to the sound of--

BAWK BAWK BAWK, BAWK BAWK BAWK! BAAAAAAAWK BAWK BAWK! BAAAAAWK!

Meryl surged upright, adrenaline shocking her into (semi) wakefulness as the sound of a crazy chicken shot into her brain. Automatically grabbing the phone from its place underneath her pillow, she flipped it open, shutting one eye against the glare as she winced through the glowing screen for the caller ID. The picture showed a normally serious black haired, bandanned girl pulling a horrible face at the camera: Toriko, naturally, had something similar of Meryl on her own PHS. Meryl flipped open her phone and lay back down on the bed, letting the phone lie on her head.

"Hello?" She asked muzzily.

"He's gone!" Toriko's voice was so high and loud that for a moment, Meryl had thought a crazy woman had eaten her best friend. Meryl winced and put the phone down beside her head. Obligingly the glowing screen dimmed, letting Meryl close her eyes without white-blue light poking her in her retinas.

"Who's gone?"

"Father!" Toriko started to rant. "You SAID that if I told him it was alright, he'd stay around out of worry, but he's GONE!"

"Uh..." Meryl shifted in her covers, curling up to be warmer. It was getting on towards wintertime in the most irritating way—bright, hot days, but bitchily cold mornings that made Meryl really hate her apartment's marble floors. Seriously, they sucked the heat out of everything. "Well, Tory... It's his job. Sometimes they have to go away for that." She yawned and said, "Besides, I didn't say for sure that it would work, only that it did on my dad that one time."

"How dare you give me faulty advice?"

Meryl opened her eyes. "Excuse me?" She asked in a low voice.

"You're my friend! Why would you give me such horrible advice?"

"Okay, first off, you are way overreacting about this," said Meryl, glaring at the phone. "Second off, I told you a story. I never said 'do it'." She picked up the PHS, saying, "Call me back when your hormones bleed out," and shut it with a definitive snap. Grumbling about crazy girl teenagers, Meryl stuffed the PHS back under her pillow and turned over to try and sleep.

BAWK BAWK BAWK, BAWK BAWK BAWK! BAAAAAAAWK BAWK BAWK! BAAAAAWK!

_"Like hell I will,"_ Meryl thought, and put the PHS on vibrate. For the next twenty minutes it buzzed impotently at her, tickling her ears and jerking her out of a restful slumber, until finally Meryl snapped off the hatch, yanked out the battery, and practically hurled both pieces across the room to land on her desk. Fortunately it was still dark, so Meryl curled up, shut her eyes, and slept blissfully until her mother came in to tell her that she was going to miss school if she didn't get out of bed _right now_.

Like most people who receive a phone call while half-asleep and then immediately go to sleep right after, Meryl didn't remember what happened as she brushed her teeth, washed her face, combed her hair, dressed, and went to school—all at supersonic speeds with a tempo dictated by her mother's foot tapping impatiently on the floor and later on the gas pedal. She had no idea of how angry Toriko was until lunchtime, the only time they ever saw each other nowadays—Meryl was smart, but nowhere near the college-level classes Toriko took with the soon-to-be graduates. Their usual lunch spot was under the Tree of Doom, as Meryl had come to call it, but when she went there, Toriko was nowhere to be found. This struck Meryl as very odd, as Toriko never missed a day of school and never changed lunch places without telling her either.

_"She usually mails me... Oh wait, I killed my phone this morning. Huh."_ Then memories of why she had killed the phone came back. _"Man, she really was way too pissed. I wonder if she's hiding from me just to piss _me_ off."_

If that was the case, it was a fail. Even though Toriko was possibly ignoring her right now, their association for the past three years had done wonders for Meryl's self-confidence, and instead of turning into an insecure wreck about the fact her best friend was nowhere to be found, Meryl instead shrugged, sat in the shade below the Tree of Doom, and began eating her lunch. Unlike most of the other children at Waverly, Meryl brought food from home, and unlike the other children who did bring their lunches, Meryl displayed hers with pride. It was hard not to when your mother was nuts about Wutaiese lunch boxes and their oh-so-cute way of preparing meats and veggies. Every day was like a little piece of artwork, except edible and sometimes a little weird. Meryl wasn't too hot on the maple leaf made of last night's salmon casserole, but it wasn't as weird as the fish made out of broccoli or the tree made with sliced mushrooms and dyed cauliflower florets.

_"Seriously, Mom, you don't have to dress food up to make me eat it. It's cute, but I'm not five years old anymore."_

However, the Wutaiese enthusiasm ended with eating implements: Meryl had a portable silverware set for her dining needs, three slim utensils in a cute case. She dug into her lunch with gusto and ignored the tingle of unease in her intestines. It was probably hunger.

Lunchtime passed without incident. In fact, the whole day passed without incident. Meryl didn't start to wonder about Toriko until day three of not seeing her anywhere, which made Meryl worry. Had she pulled another disappearing act? The only thing Toriko had said about her two-week absence a few days before was "It's personal."

_"Personal, my ass…"_ Meryl thought with a scowl. _"I'll find out what really happened if it kills me."_

Just like how she was going to find out things now. But rather than shoot some crazy device at the top of Toriko's building (although that HAD been pretty epic) Meryl decided to go the straightforward route. The fourth day of Toriko not being anywhere, Meryl went to her apartment building and walked in like she belonged there. The doorman didn't even notice her.

_"Sloppy,"_ thought Meryl, until she tried to use the elevator and realized only a resident's cardkey could unlock the thing. Same with the stairs. As she came back to the lobby and pondered her options, Meryl thought, _"Ass and balls! How am I supposed to get to the top?"_

"Ack!"

Meryl turned and saw a harried young woman with her arms overflowing with groceries. She did not look like a resident of the posh apartment building, but rather hired help--a maid, maybe, or someone's au pair. Meryl ran over to help her as one grocery bag teetered off her arm and snatched it just before it could hit the floor.

"Oh, thanks," said the young woman, smiling gratefully.

"No problem," said Meryl. Then it hit her. "Here, let me help you with those."

"Oh, it's--"

"Aw, call it my good deed for the day," said Meryl cheerfully, taking another bag. The woman now only had one in her arms, which gave her a free hand. Meryl walked toward the elevator, the young woman trailing somewhat bemusedly behind. "What's your name?"

"I'm Anita."

"I'm Meryl," said Meryl with a broad grin. "Are you new? I don't think I've seen you before."

"I... I just got hired on, actually," said Anita. "The Tannants, on the tenth floor."

"Oh, them," said Meryl, pretending she knew them. Anita laughed and rolled her eyes as she swiped her keycard in front of the elevator. It dinged open, making Meryl cackle inside.

"Yeah," said Anita with a chuckle. "Them. What floor?"

"Top, please. Say, this is some really good stuff! I don't think I've seen this many fresh vegetables in Midgar ever!"

"Mrs. Tannant is on a new diet..."

So they chatted all the way up to Anita's floor and Meryl got onto Toriko's as easily as that. But that was only half the battle. Toriko and Sephiroth had the penthouse to themselves, so fortunately, finding the place was not hard. But naturally, the door was locked. Meryl took out her PHS and dialed Toriko's number. She'd called before, but Toriko hadn't answered. Therefore, she was somewhat surprised when Toriko picked up.

"What?"

"That's real friendly," said Meryl, keeping her voice just that. "Where've you been?"

"None of your business."

"Oh, don't be so pissy," said Meryl. "And don't make your guests stand out in the hall either."

"The..." She was quiet. "Meryl, how did you get into my building?"

"Bravado and trickery. Where are you?"

"I'm with Nii-san."

"Who?"

"Rufus."

Meryl blinked. "Rufus? Who's Rufus?"

"Rufus," Toriko repeated, with more emphasis this time.

"What's his last name?"

"...Shin-Ra."

"WHAT!?" Meryl yelped. "Rufus SHIN-RA?! THE Rufus Shin-Ra?"

"Oh, good. I was starting to be afraid you actually had no idea who I meant."

"Well, there's more than one Rufus in the world!"

"Yet, this is the one I am most likely to know." Toriko seemed amused. "Are you really that surprised?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"Well... It's Rufus!"

"And my father is Sephiroth. Again, are you really that surprised?"

Meryl knew she was being stupid, so she dropped it. "Why are you at Rufus's house?"

"Father's out of town," said Toriko. "He's taking care of me."

"Oh," said Meryl. "You know you're welcome at MY house, right?"

"I do," said Toriko, sounding somewhat surprised. "But... Well, I don't want to impose, and Rufus _is_ technically family..."

"Is he nice?"

"Surprisingly."

"That's good." Meryl leaned against the door. "So..."

"Yes?"

"Where've you been? I haven't seen you in four days." Toriko just sighed, which made Meryl press on. "Are you still pissed at me? For whatever reason?"

"...No," said Toriko heavily. "Not anymore."

"Why were you even mad to begin with?" Asked Meryl. "I mean, your dad has a job to do. It's not the first time he's left, is it?"

"It is."

"Oh. Well... Even so, it's not really that unexpected, is it?"

"...Not really."

"So why are you mad?"

"Meryl, do you ever wonder if you'll see your parents again?"

There was brittleness in Toriko's voice that made Meryl pause. "No," she said finally. "I never have."

"I'll never see my mother again," said Toriko. Her voice was low and fragile. "Now Father is gone from my sight. Since he left, he's not called. He's not mailed me. I can't get hold of him because he's on an active mission. So you can perhaps understand that my anxiety level is somewhat high right now."

"Come on, Tory," said Meryl. "Your dad's the freakin' General. If he's not calling, it's probably because everything's going well."

"But..." Toriko seemed to be struggling with something.

"I know, it's a shitty thing for him to do," said Meryl. "And when he comes back, I will chew him out for you." The sound of Toriko laughing, even disbelievingly, made Meryl smile. "But right now, it's useless to be mad or worried. He's gone. He'll come back. It's as simple as that."

"And if he doesn't come back?"

"Oh, he'll come back," said Meryl. "Why wouldn't he?"

Toriko was quiet. Meryl assumed she was realizing her silliness.

"Look," said Meryl. "You gotta quit stewing on this. Let's go out douchebag-hunting, that's always fun."

"Delightfully shallow and arbitrary as well."

"But still fun."

"..."

"Come on," said Meryl. "I haven't seen you in four days. I miss you. Don't you miss hanging out with me?"

"I do..."

"Then let's meet at the mall," said Meryl. "Our usual place, in about an hour, and we'll count douchebags, skanks and bitches."

"And you will explain the difference between a poser and a douchebag to me again?"

"As many times as it takes."

Toriko laughed quietly. "I'll see you there," she said softly. "And... I'm sorry about before."

"Hey," said Meryl. "It's okay. But next time, before you get mad, take a really deep breath and ask yourself if screaming at me is really the right thing to do."

"I won't do it again, I promise."

"Don't promise," said Meryl. "It might be justified sometime in the future. Over and out."

"Over and out."

Meryl hung up. Fortunately, going down the elevator did not require a keycard and getting to the mall was a simple matter of taking a few buses and walking a block here and there. Toriko was waiting at the frozen yogurt shop when Meryl arrived and wearing civilian clothes--a long dark skirt, a vest over a long-sleeved black shirt, and thick-framed glasses that tinted her green eyes brown and made her look less like the Shin-Ra Princess. Meryl sat down across from her.

"I got you your usual," said Toriko, pushing a little cup of frozen yogurt toward Meryl.

"Thanks," said Meryl. The yogurt shop was located on the second level of the mall, conveniently above a large, wide section that quite a few people passed through on their way to various stores, and as such, it was the perfect spot for spotting teenage stereotypes. It was also a great place to play the "too cute to be straight" game and the "how many jumps would it take for her to fall out of her bra" game. But Meryl ignored the people milling below and instead looked at Toriko, who was stirring her frozen yogurt without any apparent intention of eating it.

"So... Wanna talk?"

"About what?"

"Whatever's bothering you."

"I don't see how talking would help."

"Sometimes it does," said Meryl. "Just knowing someone else understands."

Toriko laughed derisively. It was an ugly noise to begin with, but especially ugly from her. "Understand," she said, almost scornful. "Meryl, you're my best friend, but there's no way you could understand."

"You're falling into the Teenage Trap," said Meryl, which made Toriko grimace. "Talk to me. Come on."

Toriko sighed. "It's very long and complicated, Meryl."

"So? We got an afternoon to kill, and we've only tried..." Meryl checked Toriko's yogurt. "Five of the eighteen toppings in this place, since we both got strawberries this time. Tell me the long and complicated story."

Toriko poked her yogurt again. She seemed to be thinking.

"Alright," she said, suddenly looking up. "Try this. Everyone hates you."

"Okay."

"No, Meryl. I mean they really hate you. I mean when you walk down the street, people throw bricks at you. Bricks. You are five years old and adults are throwing bricks, stones, broken bottles, whatever they can get their hands on. And you have to watch as your mother takes all those blows meant for you, in addition to the ones she gets on a normal basis."

Meryl blinked. "Are you... Are you talking about Wutai?"

"They blame you," said Toriko, gripping her yogurt. "They blame your blood. They blame your mother for having you. They can't get their hands on him, but she's there. You're there. And so are lots of bricks, and stones, and sticks... And one day, Mother isn't there anymore."

"...She died because she was sick, wasn't she?" Meryl asked in a small voice.

"No, Meryl," said Toriko with glittering eyes. "She did not."

Meryl stared at Toriko. Toriko began to shake her head slowly.

"Imagine coming here, after that," said Toriko. Her voice was very soft, almost lost underneath the mall chatter. "Imagine finding the other half of your blood. Can you... You don't know how wonderful it is, Meryl, to not be alone anymore. And I can't tell you how bad it feels to be alone again."

"But you're not alone," Meryl said weakly. "You have me and... And Rufus too, I guess."

"It's not the same."

"We love you," said Meryl. "That's not enough?"

Toriko flinched at the word 'love'. "I... I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "But can you understand my...?"

"Honestly? No." Meryl reached out and cupped her hands around Toriko's. "But I see enough to know you're sad and really upset. And I'm here for you, even if I don't make you as 'not alone' as your dad does. But I won't hate you ever and I won't leave or run away or just turn for no reason. Toriko... Try to imagine this, okay?

"Your wonderful, loving mother and father tell you you're just fine the way you are. You're special. You're sparky. You love life and learning and you make everyone happy just being around them. So how come no one else seems to believe it? You start to wonder, after about the tenth so-called friend calls you 'weird' and stops talking to you, if your parents are telling you the truth. Maybe they're lying to you. But then you realize, they're probably lying to themselves, and they really do think you're wonderful. The rest of the world, however, knows you're a freak and wants nothing to do with you.

"And then this awesome cool person comes along and proves that everyone else is wrong and that you really _are_ wonderful and worth knowing, because she enjoys spending time with you, and all those things that annoyed everyone before, she appreciates them. She thinks they're great, and that you're great."

Meryl squeezed Toriko's hands. "You made me not be alone too," said Meryl. "It means a lot to me. I hope it means something to you also."

Toriko just stared. Then, slowly, she bowed her head.

"I'm so sorry I've treated you so badly," she whispered.

"Sometimes that happens," said Meryl. "But since we're friends, we can talk about it. Come on."

Meryl reached over the table and gave Toriko a hug. She felt the other girl's tears on her cheek.

"I'm really sorry about your mom," she whispered. "I didn't know."

"It hurt too much to say."

"Does it hurt a little less?"

"Yes."

Meryl patted her on the back and let go. Toriko sank into her seat and rubbed the tears from her face.

"Our yogurt's turning into soup," she commented.

"Yeah," said Meryl, poking at hers. "Especially yours. Why do you always stir it?"

"I like a homogenous texture."

"But then why even get toppings?"

"I said 'texture', not 'taste'."

Toriko began to eat her yogurt. Meryl ate too. After everything that had just happened, there were just no words to be spoken. In the end, they did go through all eighteen flavors and had the stomachaches to prove it, but as Meryl lay in bed that night with a hot water bottle on her cramping belly, she knew she would remember this day as being totally, totally worth it. In ten minutes she had learned more about Toriko than in the past three years combined. Suddenly so many little behavioral twitches and quirks made sense.

_"How would I be, if my mom died protecting me? How would I be if I knew my dad as someone only to be hated, and yet still want to know him?"_

It was definitely food for thought. But Meryl's last though before she drifted off to sleep was not about 'what might have been', but rather something that was going on right now.

_"She told me all this, but the one she really needs to talk to is... God, he can be such an asshole sometimes."_

/\/\/\/\/\

A/N: OMFG UPDATE WTFBBQ

So I had another chapter planned out, but my beta Silver Whirl reminded me that I hadn't updated this story in forever, and therefore it would be a good idea to put in some sort of refresher chapter. So I did, or at least I tried. I hope it came out well. The hard part about recapping from someone else's point of view is that Toriko lies a lot to preserve a certain image that we all know is not true. The tricky thing is remembering the lies and then mixing just enough truth into them that it all holds up under a decent amount of scrutiny.

Speaking of which, you're probably coming back to PYLO after a long, long absence. So here are the high points:

1. Sephiroth left Midgar because of intense migraines that reduced his patience with Toriko to nil. He nearly choked her to death and this bothers him, so he's heading to Nibelheim in an attempt to learn how to control himself better.

2. Toriko and Sephiroth speak mind-to-mind, but their range is only about five miles. Anything further than that and they have no idea where the other one is. Hence, why Toriko is freaking out hardcore.

3. Toriko is staying with Rufus because she spun a lie about being molested by President Shin-Ra, so Rufus is keeping an eye on her to make sure nothing happens. In truth, Toriko is hanging out with Rufus so Hojo won't trank and yank her.

That should answer most of the immediate burning questions. I suppose if you really want to, you can reread all of PYLO. Most likely, however, you will just go straight for the Great Naked Sephiroth and laugh yourself silly. I know I do :D

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	122. Chapter 109

**People still read this? Dang.**

Put Your Lights On

3.18.10 (Yes, I started trying to write this TWO YEARS AGO. What the hell.)

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This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

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Chapter One Hundred and Nine

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Cloud could barely remember a day when he hadn't had to endure some sort of teasing. Most days it seemed like the whole world was making fun of him. In Nibelheim, the kids picked on him because of his name, his hair, his shortness, how skinny he looked, how girly he looked. In Midgar, he was weak and short-tempered and too stupid for SOLDIER, and still looked like a girl. And now, when he finally got a chance to go on a mission with SOLDIERS--and the General, even!--he was still being made fun of.

"Don't puke up your guts again, Strife," said Marcon with a sneer. Marcon was one of the two other MP's who'd gotten assigned to this mission. He was a senior MP with fifteen years' experience, yet had never risen to command. Cloud figured he was pissed about it all the time, which was why he always took the mickey out on juniors like Cloud and Dreen, the other MP on the trip. Cloud throttled down the urge to punch Marcon and just let the older man get onto the damn truck first. When he did puke, he was gonna aim right for Marcon's face. Thanks to the Gelnika, the boat trip from Junon to Costa del Sol, and the helicopter ride from Costa del Sol to Rocket Town, Cloud was getting plenty familiar with how he threw up and even how to control it. Now if he could just stop from getting sick in the first place...

"Leave the kid alone, Marcon," said Zack. He was a SOLDIER First Class, but not an ass at all. He was the kind of guy who ran around trying to make friends with everyone, and succeeding about 90% of the time. Cloud thought he was cool. "It's not like you've never puked in your life."

"Yeah, but--"

"I said it's enough," said Zack with just a hint of steel in his voice and an ever-so-slight narrowing of his glowing purple eyes. That was so cool, how the glow brightened when he glared. Cloud was jealous, and jealous about what the glow meant.

Heavy footsteps behind Cloud made him turn, and he nearly leapt out of his skin when he saw the General sweeping up to the van, emerald eyes ablaze and power rolling off his skin. An electric prickle went over Cloud's entire body as the silver-haired man passed him by and stepped into the truck with an effortless, fluid motion. He didn't even clip the black suitcase he was carrying against the side of the truck, nor either end of his sheathed, spear-length sword. Cloud watched, mesmerized by the man's grace, as the General took a seat in the corner of the van and settled his belongings with a few economical motions. He was so cool...

"Cloud, you getting in or what?"

"Oh!" Cloud scrambled into the truck, red in the face. Marcon noticed, of course, and laughed. Zack ignored him as he gave Cloud a helping hand, which was nice--guns and ammo got heavy, after all.

"If you sit near the middle, it won't bounce so much," said Zack in a low voice.

"...thanks," Cloud whispered. "But..."

He glanced at the General, who was in his own impenetrable corner of the world in the back of the truck. The thought of getting anywhere within ten feet of him made Cloud shake with nerves.

"Oh, he doesn't bite," said Zack airily. "But I get it."

So began the twenty-hour truck ride from Rocket Town to Nibelheim, with no stopping during the night. Dreen switched out with Marcon after four hours of driving, and after Marcon, it was Cloud's turn to take the wheel. By then it was evening and they were nearing the mountains, which made Cloud nervous. Fortunately, the reactor in Nibelheim meant that the tiny, twisting mountain road was not only paved, but had lights strung up at regular intervals. Most of them even worked. To Cloud's surprise, Zack climbed into the front half of the truck with him.

"Hey," said the SOLDIER. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No," said Cloud.

"Great," said Zack, grinning. He held up a plastic bag Cloud could only assume he'd pulled out of his duffel. "And I brought munchies."

"Are those...?"

"Apples? Yeah."

"They're purple."

"They taste the same," said Zack. He pulled a knife from his pocket and began to peel the apple. It smelled sweet and unbearably delicious, and Cloud winced when his stomach rumbled. Zack looked at him and chuckled.

"Yeah, I know," said Zack, and to Cloud's surprise, handed him the apple. "Here."

"Thanks," said Cloud, taking it somewhat hesitantly.

"My girlfriend got me these," said Zack happily. "But there's too much just for me, so share the love, eh?"

"Yeah..." Cloud looked at the apple, then at Zack. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"This, and... Before, with Marcon," said Cloud, frowning.

"Oh," said Zack. Clearly that hadn't been a big deal for him. "I just don't like when people do that."

"And the apple?"

"Helps wash down the MRE," said Zack, starting to peel his own. "And settle the stomach."

"Really?"

"Yeah," said Zack. A slim purple ribbon seemed to grow off the apple, revealing snow-white fruit beneath. "Besides..."

"What?"

"It's getting late and you're probably gonna get tired," said Zack, looking at him. "So I thought I might keep you company, if you'll do the same for me when it's my turn to drive. I'm next," he said at the confused look on Cloud's face.

"Oh," said Cloud. "Well..." He looked down at the apple, then back at Zack. "I..."

Someone banged on the other side of the truck. "You two gonna stop fuckin' up there and get this thing on the road?" This was followed up by an obnoxious laugh. Dreen.

"Some people think they're funny," Zack muttered. Cloud laughed before he realized what he was doing, but started the truck anyway and rolled back onto the road. Their truck was the only vehicle around for hundreds of miles, which was both a blessing and a curse: no traffic to bother with, but radio stations catering to busy drivers either. Cloud was glad to have Zack in the front with him, even if Zack did talk a lot.

"So tell me about your hometown," said Zack, eating another apple. He ate his whole, stems and seeds and everything, which was how he swore everyone in his hometown, Gongaga, ate them. Cloud whittled his down to the seeds and then pitched the core out of the window when Zack wasn't looking.

"What?" Cloud looked at him, surprised.

"Eyes on the road, dude," said Zack. Cloud obeyed. "Your hometown," Zack repeated. "It's where we're headed, right? Sephiroth said there was a local in the MP's, and since the two chuckleheads back there have regular Continental accents, I figure it's you. You got a little accent in your voice."

"I do?"

"Yeah," said Zack, then to Cloud's surprise, suddenly began to speak differently. "Iss not a big deal, but the blokes in Midgar make too much of a fella havin' one."

"Y-yeah..." Cloud couldn't help but look at Zack again. "That's a Gongagan accent?"

"Yea," said Zack, grinning. "Daon't use it much, but it's nice t'speak normally agin. What's yours like? Eyes, mate," he added, nodding at the road again.

"Uh..." Cloud swallowed as he looked back at the road. It had been such a long time since he'd not thought about speaking perfect Continental that it actually took him a while to remember the way he'd used to speak just a couple years ago. "Uh..."

"Try rememberin' somethin' ye used to say a bunch," said Zack, looking at him with an expectant grin. Now that he'd shed the Continental inflections, he was getting somewhat harder to understand.

Cloud thought hard. "Was dür einen schönen Tag wir haben. " he said finally.

Zack stared at him. "What the fuck wazzat?"

"That was the Nibel accent."

"Accent, my ass!" Zack stared at him, his eyes alight. "That's a completely fucking different language! What'd you say?"

"What a lovely day we're having," said Cloud, shooting him a quick, curious glance.

"Whoa," said Zack, his eyes widening. "Awesome. It sounded like... Like..." He made grappling gestures with his hands. "Like you was threatening to rip me head off."

"What?"

"Say something else!"

Cloud laughed. "Why?"

"Because it's cool!" Zack was bouncing in his seat. "I love different languages! That was part of why I wanted over to Wutai, y'know, the sound of a different tongue!"

"You're weird."

"True," said Zack, grinning. "And I love ev'ry second of it."

"Well, sure, when everyone loves you."

Zack cocked his head. Cloud felt like kicking himself.

"So, Cloud," said Zack, and Cloud was somewhat relieved to hear Zack speaking accentless Continental again. "Tell me about your hometown."

"There's not much to tell," said Cloud. Unconsciously he slumped in his seat. "It's like Gongaga, there's a reactor around. People go to work. They come home."

"Got friends there?"

"No."

"A girl?"

"...No."

"I heard that," said Zack, sitting up. "What's her name?"

Normally Cloud would have died before revealing something so personal, but Zack had given him apples and not made fun of his real voice. "Tifa," said Cloud reluctantly.

"What's she like?"

"She's... She's sweet," said Cloud, slumping a little more. "Beautiful. I mean, really, beautiful. You know most girls are just cute, but she's really... And she's nice. She was even nice to me."

"Was that so hard in your town?"

"Yeah," said Cloud. "You know, my mom's the only single mother in town?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. And everyone keeps making something of it, like she had me out of wedlock or something," said Cloud. His voice began to heat up at the memory of it all. "Dad died in the War early on. Mom lost our old house. She had to move somewhere cheap and with a job. Nibelheim fit the bill, except everyone there's an ass."

"Except Tifa."

"Yeah."

"So that's why you left?"

"Yeah," said Cloud. "I just..." He shook his head. "I figured if I got into SOLDIER..."

"Yeah," said Zack with understanding. Cloud felt the little knot in his chest ease.

"What's it like?" He asked softly. The yearning in his voice was pathetic enough to make him cringe inside. But Zack was kind.

"It's... Well, it's difficult, to be honest," said Zack. "I'm on this mission to get a handle on being a First."

"A handle?"

"You ever hold a chick when you were a kid?" Asked Zack. "Or a small animal?"

"I took care of a baby squirrel when I was a kid."

Zack nodded. "And you know like there are some kids, you give them that animal, and they squeeze it to death because they don't know how to control their strength?"

"I...guess?"

"Being a First is like that," said Zack, and Cloud glanced at him; his face was somber. "You gotta be really careful. It's like... Breaking an egg and breaking a cement block almost feels the same."

"Really?"

Zack shook his head. "It's not as awesome as you think," said Zack, correctly interpreting the note in Cloud's voice. "My girlfriend... The one who gave us the apples? I couldn't hug her because I was afraid I was going to break her back." He sighed and leaned against the window. "The Captain says there's nothing like combat to let you know your limits. Maybe once I know what those are, I can dial it down."

Cloud couldn't empathize. So he drove silently as Zack stared out of the window, his purple eyes reflecting against the glass. It began to rain just as night fell.

"You getting tired?" Zack asked suddenly, looking at Cloud.

"What?" Cloud turned in surprise.

"Eyes on the road, du--"

The steering wheel suddenly seemed to shoot up at him. Cloud didn't even have time to scream as the hard black plastic collided with his head, the seatbelt snapping tight just a split second too late. He gasped as pain shot through his forehead.

"God... Damn..." Zack was also clutching his head. "What the hell?"

Cloud rapidly blinked, trying to clear the stars from his eyes. He couldn't see anything. There was nothing outside but blackness and rain. But...

Then Cloud felt, rather than heard, the dragon growl. His blood turned to ice. Living in Nibelheim, which was natural dragon territory, he had heard dragon calls before, but always from far off. He had never even seen one before.

_"Well, it just figures the first time I did, I'd run into the thing..."_

"Fuck," swore Zack as the blackness suddenly moved black, and Cloud whimpered a little as a huge, hulking beast, easily half again the size of the truck, backed up and growled. Baleful red eyes burned hotter than Mako in the darkness, and the dragon opened its mouth to reveal a gaping maw filled with gleaming ivory teeth.

"Daon't move," Zack said to Cloud, barely moving his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, Cloud saw Zack move ever so slowly to open the car door.

"Bing," called the General from the back. The dragon growled again, making Cloud's bones ache with the depth of it. "What is it?"

"Draygon, sir," Zack said through the corner of his mouth. His accent had come back.

"Just one?"

Just one? Just ONE?! Cloud gripped the steering wheel so hard his hands ached. That thing was big enough to eat him and half the front of the truck! And the General was asking "just one"! ONE WAS PLENTY.

"Yea," said Zack. Apparently he felt the same.

The truck rocked a little. "Get out here," said Sephiroth.

"Wha... Are you--"

"Now."

Zack made a noise halfway between a groan and whimper as he slowly reached for the truck door. Cloud began to shake uncontrollably. He was going to be alone in the front of the truck.

"Zack..." His voice came out in a squeak.

"It's gonna be fine, mate," said Zack, easing his fingers under the latch. They both winced as the door clicked open far too loudly, making the dragon hiss. Zack swallowed and said again, more confidently, "We're gonna be fine."

"Zack..."

"Stay in the truck, alright?"

"Zack!"

Zack slid out of the truck door and the dragon snarled at him, gouging sword-sized gashes in the gleaming black road. Cloud felt a new surge of terror as Zack slowly began to walk, sideways, away from the van.

_"Please don't let it eat Zack..."_

A strange ringing, singing cut through Cloud's terror just enough for him to glance at the sideview mirror. A glimpse of silver was all he saw before the General strode past the driver's side door, his long sword unsheathed in his left hand. In his other hand he held a huge, powerful block of a sword, one that he tossed over the truck with a nearly negligent flick of the wrist. Cloud heard it slice into the dirt on Zack's side and hoped it hadn't hit his friend.

The dragon swung its head to look at the General and hissed. The silver-haired man continued to walk towards it, and he swung his sword once, twice. At once the dissonant chime Cloud had heard before filled the air, and Cloud was shocked to realize it came from the General's sword. The noise seemed to confuse the dragon, because it hissed and backed up a pace. That shocked Cloud, but not as much as what he thought he heard next.

"Tch tch tch." The General clicked his tongue, and then... Laughed. Softly. He held up his sword and said in a voice full of dreadful, terrible purpose, "Here, kitty kitty."

The dragon roared. Cloud shut his eyes. The next ten seconds were the stuff of nightmares as the awful, shearing noise of steel through flesh and the dragon's bellows of pain mixed with what sounded like war yells from Zack and the painful, ever-so-off-key chime of the General's sword. It ended with a THUMP that shook the truck and rattled Cloud's bones again.

"Well?" Said the General.

"Huh," said Zack. He sounded normal again. "You know... That wasn't as bad as I thought."

"Good."

"Now what? We can't drive over a dragon corpse."

"Burn it," said Sephiroth. "And we might as well refuel while we're waiting."

"Yes, sir," said Zack. Cloud opened his eyes just in time to see Zack shoot a massive fireball from his palm onto the... Oh god. OH GOD. There were organs the size of dogs lying in pieces all over the road, and blood was gushing everywhere....

Cloud's stomach, which had been so good up until now, suddenly rebelled. Cloud managed to get the driver's side door open just in time to stumble out and throw up onto the grass.

"Oh fuck," he said weakly.

Footsteps. Then boots, stepping around him, and a black leather coat sweeping by without comment. Cloud looked up and felt his soul wither as the General wordlessly left him on his knees in the wet grass and went back into the truck.

_"It's just my luck," _Cloud thought bitterly. _"Of course it would be just my goddamn luck."_

But he couldn't just wallow in self-pity. Cloud got to his feet, wiped his mouth, and followed the General to the back of the truck. The silver-haired man was deconstructing his seat in the corner, throwing off a heavy canvas dropcloth to reveal spare gas tanks. Marcon and Dreen were both on their feet, wide-awake and somewhat pale. But they weren't the kind of guys who'd stay quiet for long.

"You!" Marcon glared at Cloud. "Strife! What the fuck were you doing up there?"

"It was black," said Cloud. "I didn't see it."

"A fucking DRAGON is in front of the fucking truck, and you don't SEE it?"

"I just didn't, alright?! And Zack didn't see it either!"

"You were behind the fucking wheel, Strife! You don't see a goddamn fucking--"

"Shut up," the General said sharply, and it was like he had literally cut into the conversation. Decapitated it, even. Marcon shut up. The General grow-sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly reminding Cloud that his mother did the exact same thing when she had a terrible headache. Fortunately, Cloud had enough presence of mind to catch the gas can that the General tossed at him, and he even succeeded in not dropping it. Then the General sat back down, which Cloud took as his cue to leave and fill up the gas. Dreen and Marcon, thankfully, didn't see fit to follow him into the rain.

The gas cap was located in the front of the truck on the driver's side, near the bottom of the door. Cloud pried the hatch open with his fingers and twisted the cap off before hoisting the gas tank onto his knee and leaning it against the truck. To his left he felt the heat rising from the magical fires Zack was still using on the dragon's corpse. He concentrated on pouring the gasoline, making sure he didn't spill even a single drop.

"Well, can't say I'm bored anymore," said Zack, suddenly loud in his ear. Cloud nearly dropped the gas tank, but finished filling without incident. "That was... Yeah."

"Are you okay?" Cloud asked, looking at him. The rain had washed off whatever blood and gore Zack had gotten on himself, so he looked shiny. New. And very powerful, with light gleaming off his muscles and the broad blade of his awesome sword.

"Yeah," said Zack with a grin. He flicked his hair out of his eyes and said, "Yeah, I think I'm pretty good. You still wanna drive?"

"Uh... Well.. Not really."

"I'll drive then," said Zack, still grinning. Adrenaline seemed to roll off him in torrents.

"Okay."

So they got back into the truck, switching seats now. To Cloud's surprise, Zack stripped off his wet clothes and wrung them out before spreading them out to dry on the back of the seat. He seemed completely comfortable in his boxers.

"Don't sit in wet clothes, Cloud," said Zack, glancing at him. "You'll catch a cold."

"I'm not as wet as you are," said Cloud, hugging himself. "I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself," said Zack as he turned on the truck. The engine sputtered to life as Zack said, "I checked the front. No major damage, which is nice. We must have smacked him right in the stomach."

"I didn't see it."

"Well, hell, dude, that's why I kept saying 'eyes on the road'," Zack said merrily. But he immediately added, "I didn't see it either. It must have just crept on while we were talking."

"I should have--"

"Ahhh, shit happens," said Zack, throwing one arm over the back of the front seat. Cloud looked at him enviously. Zack was soaked, sitting in nothing but his boxers, sharing his seat with a sword almost as big as he was, and in that moment, was more comfortable with himself than Cloud had ever been in his entire life. Cloud turned to look out the window and was irrationally resentful that his eyes did not glow back at him. Miles of ghostly blue-white streetlight passed in silence.

"Hey Cloud."

"What?"

"I think the adrenaline's starting to wear off."

Cloud turned to look at Zack, who was covering a yawn. Cloud couldn't help it; he yawned too.

"Tell me about your hometown," said Zack.

"I don't want to."

"Well I understand if you don't want to tell me personal stuff," said Zack. "But knowing some about the terrain might help the mission."

"Wasn't that in the briefing?"

"Yeah..." said Zack, and Cloud figured the older man just wanted to talk. "Buuut it helps to know anyway. What's the weather like this time of year? Does it usually rain?"

"No," said Cloud.

"So this is unusual weather?"

"Yes."

"Okay, see," said Zack. "That's good to know."

Anger suddenly flared in Cloud's chest. "Don't talk down to me!" He snapped. "I'm not a child!"

"Dude, never said you were," said Zack, glancing at him in surprise. "Chill."

"Shut up!"

"The hell is your problem, Cloud?" From anyone else, it would have been an accusation. From Zack, it was just confusion. And that made Cloud angrier.

"I... I..." Cloud couldn't say it. He didn't even know what he was trying to say. Zack glanced at him again.

"Combat is scary," said Zack. His voice was so understanding. "No matter how big or small the action, you still look death in the face. It's alright to get scared. The important thing is, you're alive."

Why was he talking to him like that? "I didn't even do anything!"

"Cloud, how could you?" Zack seemed genuinely surprised. "Your gun's in the back, like my sword was. What could you have done?"

"I..." Cloud couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Just breathe," said Zack, and Cloud took a deep breath. "It's okay. Let it pass."

The anger died as Cloud breathed, leaving behind ashes that made him feel like an ass again.

"I threw up in front of the General," Cloud said miserably.

"He's seen worse," said Zack.

"Not from me."

"You wouldn't be the first to puke after action," said Zack. "Look, to be honest? The first time I got into a real fight, I was shaking so hard I nearly dropped the sword. But I lived, and it got better."

"Are you sure I'm not just a coward?" Cloud asked bitterly.

"Cloud," said Zack, glancing at him again. His purple eyes were very serious. "This time, there wasn't a thing you could do. You had no weapon and you have no experience. Next time, you'll be in a better position and you'll know more. It's fine. Don't beat yourself up about this. And eat an apple."

"I don't want to."

"Eat an apple, damn it," Zack almost snapped. "If you're malnourished and faint when we get to Nibelheim, it puts the whole mission at risk."

"What, just because of me?"

"Yeah, because we're a team," said Zack. "And all the team members have to be up to snuff. Eat an apple."

Cloud pulled the plastic bag out from underneath the seat and looked at it. "There's only one left."

"So?"

"...You have half."

"Fine by me."

/\/\/\/\/\

A/N: You know, my favorite FFVII stories are the ones that show Cloud has massive holes in his head. The best example I can think of is MadamHydra's "Conflicts of Interest", which is still one of my favorite fanfics ever. She's on , so go check it out if you want some good, serious writing with a well-developed plotline and intrigue up the wazoo. My characterization of Sephiroth is heavily influenced by hers, although I know mine is quite a bit loopier.

Anyway, here's Cloud! Poor Cloud. Ever since AC came out, everyone is all "Oh, Cloud's such a whiny bitch". Well, sure. He has serious problems people seem to keep forgetting about. Emotionally, he's probably around 18, which makes him _younger than Yuffie._ He possibly has some form of mental illness either manifesting as multiple personality disorder, schizophrenia, and/or bipolar disorder, all of which are probably undiagnosed and unmedicated. OF COURSE HE HAS PROBLEMS. Cut him some slack. And for God's sake, get him to a therapist.

As for the accents, I figure that people in isolated areas naturally develop them. How can they not? Inside jokes become slang, which becomes its own dialect, and before you know it, you have an entirely different language. Nibelheim is technically Norse (the realm of ice in mythology--which is why it enrages and confuses me that IT CATCHES ON FIRE), but I have decided that the Nibellians speak German. Why? Because it amuses me. And Zack is totally an Aussie.

/\/\/\/\/\


	123. Chapter 110

Put Your Lights On

3.27.2010 (Why on earth does it take me so long between creation and posting? God only knows.)

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter One Hundred and Ten

/\/\/\/\/\

"_So this is a hometown. Doesn't look like much."_

Nibelheim was not the most backwater town Sephiroth had ever seen, but it came close. The houses were built with thrifty re-use of older materials, giving the entire town a patchwork and overall somewhat rusty look. Everything was huddled together; in rural areas like these, no one could afford to live too far from their neighbors in case something went wrong. Fortunately, there was not a slack-jawed yokel in sight. Either the townspeople were too in awe of real live Shin-Ra forces to gawk at them or the monster situation was that serious. Sephiroth hoped this meant the beasts would be a challenge. Even that dragon had been ridiculously weak.

"Sir?"

Shit, someone was talking to him. Sephiroth's head throbbed painfully, half from annoyance and half because he'd used the last of Hojo's syringes a few hours ago. The twenty-four Mako vials had gone far too fast—he'd started pumping them two and three at a time on the Gelnika ride. Sephiroth knew he should be worried about that—the pain was, after all, getting worse—but right now he just couldn't muster the energy. Just being present in the situation was hard enough. With an effort, Sephiroth faced the speaker, who turned out to be Zack.

"So what's your hometown like?" Zack asked. His tone was so casual that it almost didn't sound like he'd asked the question twice. Sephiroth's head throbbed again.

"I don't have one." It hurt even to talk, but Sephiroth dutifully repeated the story Hojo had drilled into his head since he'd joined the army. "I never stepped outside the orphanage and in any case, it was in the middle of nowhere."

"Where in the middle of nowhere?" Idly, Sephiroth noticed that the grating accent Zack had had while fighting the dragon had mysteriously disappeared.

"South," said Sephiroth. This was another Hojo detail. "Very far south. The end of a very long and skinny cape."

"Like where that legendary smith is supposed to be?"

What? "Perhaps."

Zack scratched his head. "That's pretty remote," he said finally. "So..."

"So what?"

"How'd you get there? I mean, there's not a village around or anything..."

In a way, answering these stupid questions was soothing, like a familiar song or the times table. On the other hand, the sooner Zack's curiosity was satisfied, the sooner he'd shut up and let Sephiroth go back to suffering in peace.

"Shipwreck. So I was told, anyway." Sephiroth managed a shrug. His head was on fire, but at least the rest of his body seemed to work fine. "I never asked about it."

"Why not?" Zack seemed really surprised. "You weren't curious?"

"Being curious wouldn't have changed my circumstances," said Sephiroth. To his mild surprise, he added, "Answers wouldn't have, either."

"Still..."

"_Still?"_

"You don't even know your parents' names?"

"_What is this stupid fixation with parents?"_ Sephiroth thought irritably. _"If I ever had any, they gave me to science. Or they're dead. They're not and never have been in my life."_

He wanted to snap all of this at Zack, but the look on the younger man's face made him pause. Was that pity in his eyes? No... Not exactly. But it was close. Sephiroth was torn between amusement and rage. How dare anyone feel sorry for him, the most powerful swordsman in the world?

"_Who doesn't even know his parents' names."_

There had been a time when he'd been curious, or rather more like desperate. Five or six or seven. Still stupid enough to want and believe in saviors. Why had he stopped looking?

"Jenova Project... Subject S... Sex: Male. Hair: White. Eyes: Green. Pedigree: LC (deceased) and VV (deceased)."

…And he had never questioned again, not after finding that file.

"Jenova..."

"What was that?"

Shit, he'd just spoken aloud. "Something... I just remembered." It was true enough.

"Sounds pretty," said Zack. "Your mother's name, maybe?"

"...sure."

"What about your dad?" Zack probed cautiously.

He was still on about parents? Zack certainly had a dog's persistence. Sephiroth nearly laughed, but stopped himself before it could escalate into a hysterical pain-fueled cackling fit. A shuddering chuckle went through his body like a shiver.

"Let's get on with the mission," Sephiroth said. Zack stiffened, apparently remembering where they were, and nodded. The Mps, who'd been surreptitiously listening in the whole time, hastened to look busy and began unloading the truck.

The inn was easy to find by virtue of being the largest structure in town. Zack had phoned ahead when they'd landed in Costa del Sol, but the innkeeper still looked floored when Sephiroth came through the door. He stammered and yammered while handing over the keys, and Sephiroth was peripherally aware of female eyes peeking around corners. Normally he wouldn't have cared. But now, everything felt like a lethal irritation, and as soon as politely possible, Sephiroth fled upstairs so he wouldn't murder the bumbling innkeeper and the secretive maids. At that moment he would have given anything to be at home, in his own bed, with no one bothering him...

"_No. Not until I can stop from strangling my own child."_

Thinking about Toriko made Sephiroth realize he hadn't spoken to her in over a week. The migraine seemed to fill his mind, pushing out everything except thoughts of relief. Nevertheless, he felt a bit guilty. Toriko was mature compared to children her age, but she could very needy and insecure as well. Sephiroth suddenly worried if she was sobbing her eyes out or refusing to eat or something.

Grumbling under his breath, Sephiroth pulled his PHS from his pocket and dialed Toriko's number. As the PHS connected, Sephiroth looked out the large bay window that made up his right-hand wall. Through the dry leaves of the tree outside, Sephiroth caught a glimpse of a stately, high-walled manor that seemed—

Click. "Father?"

They spoke mind-to-mind so often that hearing Toriko's voice was a bit of a shock. "Who else would it be?"

"Someone informing me of your death." As Sephiroth rolled his eyes, Toriko adopted the sweet, passive-aggressive tone she saved for special occasions. "How is the mission going, Father?"

"Well enough," he said. "We've arrived in Nibelheim. No monsters yet, save the dragon on the way here. Zack dispatched it. Mostly."

"Zack's there too?"

Ah, teenage girls. "Yes."

"Who else?"

"Some MPs." The wind blew again and flashes of the manor flickered through the dry leaves once more. There was something so naggingly familiar about that house...

"How's the weather?"

"Fine. It rained." Ugh. The memory just wasn't coming. Sephiroth pinched the bridge of his nose and decided to change the subject. "What are you doing?"

"Staying with Rufus."

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. "Still?"

"Yes." He detected a hint of delight—he'd finally reacted enough for her, apparently.

"Why aren't you with the Tuestis instead?"

"I feel safe at Rufus's house."

"What happened to all your training?" Sephiroth demanded. "I thought you were capable of defending yourself."

Silence. Gathering steam, Sephiroth went on.

"Two years ago, you fought and defeated multiple shinobi who'd been taught from early childhood to kill and disable. One trank-and-yank team wouldn't be beyond your abilities."

"You really don't want me with Rufus." She sounded thoughtful.

"Who would?" Sephiroth snapped. "Drug-addled, womanizing noodle-armed crybaby riding on Daddy's coattails—"

"Father, that is unkind."

"Don't you dare censor me, daughter!" She was SO irritating when she did that. If she had been in front of him, Sephiroth would have slapped her. "If you ever adopt that tone again—"

"What?" She demanded. Toriko apparently got much ballsier when he wasn't around. "You'll strangle me?"

"You disrespectful little—"

Someone coughed quietly behind him. Sephiroth whipped around and saw Zack, standing just beyond arm's reach and looking a tad embarrassed. His bright purple eyes slid uneasily from Sephiroth's as the silver-haired man glared at him. "Everything alright, General?"

"...Fine." Sephiroth exhaled deeply. To Toriko he said, "We'll talk later," and hung up before she could reply. His head was pounding from a mix of aggravation and pain—it was worse than any hangover he'd ever had. Sephiroth shut his eyes and rubbed his temples. Meanwhile Zack scuffed his toe against the floor.

"I sent the men out with walkies to establish a perimeter," said Zack, sounding subdued. "Maybe you should get some sleep."

"I'm fi—"

"No you're not." Zack lifted his head, Mako eyes flashing. "You've been irritable and on-edge this entire mission, and I've NEVER heard you talk to Toriko like that before." He hesitated, then added softly, "I saw you doing... stuff... on the Gelnika."

Sephiroth's blood chilled. "What?"

"It was when everyone was sleeping," said Zack. "I smelled Mako and I woke up..."

So he'd seen the syringes. Shit. "Supplements," Sephiroth said quickly.

"I've never taken supplements like that."

"You haven't been First Class as long as I have."

Zack looked suspicious. Hastily Sephiroth added, "And no, they will not tell you that in the manual."

"But the other First Classers..."

"Company policy."

Zack nodded slowly, which made Sephiroth sigh inside with relief. Company policy had quite a few rules about what SOLDIERS were allowed and not allowed to say—one more wouldn't be suspicious. Sephiroth didn't enjoy lying to subordinates, but it wasn't as though his headache would seriously jeopardize the mission. Even if he somehow died, Zack would still be more than capable of clearing the reactor and checking up on a few readouts.

"And if I was dead, I wouldn't have this damn headache!"

"I'm sorry you heard me losing my temper with my daughter," said Sephiroth, making sure he sounded contrite. "She's getting old enough to push my buttons, and when it concerns..."

"How much did he hear?"

"Boys?" A smile crept up Zack's face and the tension flowed from his body, making him strand straight and relaxed in a moment. Sephiroth hoped all future problems would be so easily solved. "I can see why that'd bother you. But you know, she'll take their balls."

"I hope so," said Sephiroth, scowling. "She's no hothouse flower, but I still..."

"Is it someone at school?"

Sephiroth contemplated telling him it was Rufus, but decided against it at the last minute. "Yes."

Zack grinned and cracked his knuckles. "Should we, eh... Sort him out when we get back?"

The thought of grinning, bright-eyed Zack "sorting anyone out" was good enough for a smirk. As Sephiroth shook his head, he suddenly noticed they were the only ones in the hall, and had been for some time. "Where are the men?"

A flicker of worry crossed Zack's eyes, but the youth acted completely casual. "Marcon's at the water tower, taking the high eye. Dreen is checking the mountainside exit. Strife's interviewing the locals."

Sephiroth tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. "Interviewing the locals? Why?"

"To assess damages."

"There've been no casualties reported."

"Well yeah, but property—"

"Not the Company's problem." Sephiroth frowned at Zack. "Well? Why is Strife out, Zack?"

Zack blinked. "Uh..." He started to look awkward again. "Sir... You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"We just talked about this..." said Zack, rubbing the back of his head. "When we got into town."

Yes. Fine. His hearing was shot and his short-term recall was gone too. Sephiroth grit his teeth and said, "Please refresh my memory."

"Okay," said Zack. "Well... I sent Strife out to see the locals because Nibelheim is his hometown."

Ah.

/\/\/\/\/\

A/N: I can't believe people are still reading this.

/\/\/\/\/\


	124. Chapter 111

Put Your Lights On

12.15.2011 (Why on earth does it take me so long between creation and posting? God only knows.)

/\/\/\/\/\

This is a FFVII fic by kleptomaniac0. I own no characters except those you haven't heard of, meaning the ones I've made. Normally I'm averse to posting something new while I have multiple works in progress, but this OC, the first OC I ever created, has been banging against the walls of my head ever since Advent Children came in out Japan. So I'm letting her out before she drives me crazy.

This will be a lot more unguarded than my other works, meaning it'll be sloppier. I'm writing this to get it out of my head and though I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, I probably won't be looking at them until the story's done.

Who am I kidding? I need feedback like sunlight. Drop me a line, you know you want to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Chapter One Hundred and Eleven

/\/\/\/\/\

The familiar mixture of belligerence, dread, and contempt made Cloud walk differently as soon as he stepped into Nibelheim. He couldn't help it. Automatically his hands clenched, ready to strike someone throwing a punch at his back. He dropped his stance about half an inch, keeping his knees flexed for a quick burst of speed. He ducked his head just a little, preparing himself for inevitable hurt. All of these actions were as involuntary as the emotions roiling around in his stomach.

"_I'm not a kid anymore,"_ his sensible self whispered. _"I'm a Shin-Ra MP and I've got real training under my belt. No one's going to jump me for the hell of it."_

Still, Cloud walked much more quickly than usual as he made a beeline for his mother's house. It looked exactly the same as it had two years ago—only the flowers had changed, from yellow to something multicolored. It was springtime in the mountains and the tough little alpine blooms waved bravely in the biting wind and thin sunshine. Mom always used native flowers for her window boxes, never minding the snickers and eye-rolls from the other ladies. At least Mom's flowers never perished of blight or frost. That made Cloud smile a bit. His mom's flowers were tough, just like her.

"_Just like me,"_ he reminded himself as he stepped up to the door and knocked. As he waited, Cloud looked over his shoulder at the town. Nibelheim looked the exact same, and for a moment he felt a swelling of emotion in his chest that was not negatively based. He hadn't realized until now how much he'd missed the mountains, the crisp and clean air, the view that went on forever. Midgar was awe-inspiring, but somewhat terrifying. When Cloud looked out at the mountains, he felt something in his chest unbind. He sighed deeply in relief…

…and then saw her.

There was no mistaking that face, that fall of rich brown hair, and that easy, confident carriage that spoke of popularity and comfort. Still, Cloud did a double take when he saw the tiny waist, the generous hips, and the…the…

"Are those D cups? No, they can't be. E's? F's?"

Tifa Lockhart had grown up and grown HOT. Cloud felt a little lightheaded as blood rushed to his face and his dick in equal measure, then immediately kicked himself for being a fool. What had he expected? Tifa had obviously bloomed late—so what? Besides, he had seen breasts before. Well, not actual real breasts, but he'd read girly mags and there were tons of huge-chested women strutting around Midgar, wearing low-cut tops and tight shiny shirts that left nothing to the imagination...

But Tifa was not dressed like that. Instead of emphasizing her bountiful chest, Tifa wore a miniskirt that made Cloud stare at her long legs and shapely derriere even from all the way across the town square. She exuded so much confidence that it was impossible to not look at and admire all of her—her boobs were great, but the whole package together was perfection. No amount of tight clothing or makeup in Midgar could match Tifa's natural beauty, and with a pang of very familiar self-pity, Cloud wondered if she would recognize him. He didn't think she would. And he didn't want her to, either. He hadn't fulfilled their promise.

_"If I'm ever in trouble, my hero will come and rescue me. I want to experience that at least once."_

Yet it was obvious that Tifa had not only gotten hot, but strong. Cloud could see the subtle play of her well-developed muscles under her smooth, tanned skin, and instinctively he knew that Tifa could probably punch a hell of a lot harder than he could. By the time Cloud had left, Tifa had already been taking martial arts classes for five years, and she'd already been damn good. If she was still taking them now, Tifa could take care of herself.

And where'd that leave the "hero"?

"The hero doesn't exist," Cloud thought bitterly. "I failed. I'm not a SOLDIER, and I'll never get famous. I won't ever be able to save her."

The door opened, making Cloud spin around. He got the second shock of the day looking at the middle-aged woman standing in the door. She was blonde. Her eyes were blue. He recognized her face, and yet…

"Was Mom always so old?"

How had so many wrinkles gotten on her face in two years? With alarm, Cloud saw gray hairs he'd known for sure had never been there before. He looked at the hand she had on the doorknob and saw tiny blue veins bumping up under the thin skin. Even her skin, which Cloud had always remembered as tanned, looked faded and dry.

"_Is this really my mom?"_ Cloud wondered as he looked into the familiar and yet alien face. His mother's eyes, as cornflower blue as his own, darkened as she looked at him, head tilted slightly in confusion. Then she stared.

"Oh my god," Ma croaked, her free hand going to her mouth. "My son…"

Cloud opened his mouth to reply, but to his horror, her eyes filled up with tears.

"Oh no…" She began to cry. "Oh no, no…"

Cloud was mortified. He looked down at the ground, unable to say a word. Was she that disappointed he hadn't come home covered in glory? He wanted to turn and run away, but his feet were rooted to the front step. Hot, bitter shame burned in his stomach.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Please…" Ma wept. "Please tell me… Did he die quickly?"

What?

"Did he suffer at all?"

Cloud's head came up. Gone was the shame. It had transmuted into shock and something a great deal like… Anger.

"I knew I shouldn't have let him go," Ma wailed. "He was too young, he was just a baby—"

"Ma," he said loudly, and was gratified when she stopped crying immediately. "I'm not dead."

"Oh…?" Cloud swore he saw the gears turning. "Oh! OH!"

And the next thing he knew, Cloud was being crushed in a maternal embrace that simultaneously crushed his ribs and his dignity. For a little woman whose head just brushed his chin (and when had that happened? They'd been the same height when he'd left), Ma had a grip like a bear.

"You bad boy!" She let him go and started hitting him, making him yelp. "How could you let me go on like that? I thought you were dead!"

"Thanks for believing in me, Ma. Why did you think I was dead, anyway?" Cloud demanded as he stepped into the house. As his mother shut the door behind him, Cloud took a deep breath, and despite his ire, a shudder of relaxation went through him. The smell of baking bread and the herb bundles drying on the ceiling instantly made him feel safe again. But at the same time, really fucking annoyed.

"Because the last time a MP came to the front door, it was to tell me that your father had died in the war," Ma snapped back. Guilt made Cloud squirm a little, especially when she added, "Why didn't you take your mask off?"

"I dunno," he mumbled, suddenly feeling all of eight years old again.

"Ugh! Well, fine. Take it off now."

Cloud pulled off the mask and cap and turned to face his mother. She walked up to him and took his face in her hands, her eyes now bright blue and searching. Her gaze was more intense than he'd ever remembered, even with the tears brimming over.

"You look so much like your father," she said finally. She kissed him soundly on both cheeks, which was embarrassing but par for the course. "My darling boy. Look at you, you've grown so tall. And skinny!" She pinched his arm, making him yelp again. "They're not feeding you properly, are they? I didn't think so. Sit down. I'll make you a sandwich."

"I'm not really hungry—"

"Sit!" She said fiercely, and Cloud sat. Ma went into the kitchen humming, and Cloud looked around the house with eyes that felt somehow way, way older. The cabin was the same as he remembered, right down to the rickety boiler in the corner and the crates of stuff that Ma never put away. Cloud took a seat at the kitchen table, which was a long shelf up against the wall with two stools stuffed under it. As soon as Cloud sat down, the stool wobbled. Absently Cloud hooked his feet in the legs and began to wiggle back and forth, making the feet knock on the floor in time.

"Stop that," said Ma just as absently, and Cloud obeyed.

Eventually she came to the table with a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup. Cloud sighed deeply in satisfaction and Ma watched him eat, smiling the whole time.

"I really missed your cooking," said Cloud frankly when he was done. "And I missed you. Life in the city isn't what I thought it would be."

"It never is," said Ma sagely. "Did you meet the President?"

"President Shin-Ra? No." He chewed his lip. "Buuuut… I AM here with the General."

"That's nice," said Ma evenly. Cloud tried not to be disappointed: his mother had made no secret of how she felt about his career choice, and he was sure she was hoping he'd come back to Nibelheim and take up some sort of job in town. After all, enlisting in the military had been what had killed his father. Still...

"It's a big deal, Ma," said Cloud, knowing any attempt to impress her was stupid and yet trying anyway. "Not everybody gets to work with him."

"So why do you?"

Ugh, he hated when she asked stuff like that. Doubting him and shit. And making him doubt himself. "I… I'm along because I'm a local," said Cloud. "I speak the dialect here."

"Hmph," said Ma. "Nothing else?"

Cloud glared. "Sorry if I disappointed you by not coming home a SOLDIER First Class, Ma."

"Oh, stop that," said Ma, smacking him lightly on the arm. "You know what I mean. Haven't you learned anything while you've been gone?"

"I've learned lots, Ma," said Cloud, getting to his feet. "I should really get back to patrol. I'm supposed to be canvassing the locals."

"The neighbors?" She asked archly. "Let me guess, you'll start with the Lockharts."

The name brought a flush of memory racing over Cloud's skin and he shook his head. "No," he said immediately and winced as his voice cracked in the most horrible way imaginable. Ma smiled knowingly.

"Tifa has grown into a very fine young woman," she said. "Not just physically, but in personality too. She's very kind. And she's single!"

"Ma!"

"Oh, I'm not saying you should ask her on a date—immediately, that is," said Ma, her smile broadening. "But you know, the Evans boy—you remember him, don't you? He used to beat you so bad—now he's got a special gleam in his eye for Miss Lockhart too, and he's filled out like a bull."

"Great," Cloud grumbled.

"You should really say hello, you know," said Ma, sounding serious. As Cloud frowned at her, she said, "Tifa was all a-twitter about the Shin-Ra coming into town. I think she was hoping to see you."

"She was hoping to see the General," Cloud said ruthlessly. He had a realistic view of the world, after all. "I'm sure she knew he was coming, her dad being the mayor and all."

"How do you know that? For certain, anyway?" Ma looked at him pointedly. "I see city life hasn't stiffened your spine much."

"_City life, or being back here with you?"_ Cloud thought in exasperation.

"You're a soldier now, honey," said Ma. "You should go after her. Asking a girl out isn't as scary as some of the things you've faced, now is it?"

Cloud mentally weighed the terror of asking Tifa out versus hitting a dragon with a truck. One of those scenarios had a higher chance of death than the other, but he wasn't sure which scenario it might be…

"Is Tifa still taking her martial arts classes?" He asked.

"I think she is."

"Yeah…" Cloud shook his head. "Asking Tifa out is scarier."

"Oh, Cloud!"

"She won't just break my heart, she'll roundhouse-kick it into orbit."

"Cloud Strife, don't be ridiculous," said Ma. If she'd been standing, her hands would have been on her hips. Cloud braced himself for a tirade. Instead, he got a shock when Ma simply threw her hands up and went, "I give up. You're a man now and you'll make your own decisions. God help me abide by them. Have another sandwich."

"No thanks Ma, I'm full—"

"No you're not. Sit down and have another sandwich."

Cloud began to edge toward the door. "I really do have to get back to patrol, Ma," he said, cringing a little as his mother's eyes narrowed a degree more with every step he took. "I'll see you when I can. We're moving out first thing tomorrow. Maybe we can do dinner?"

"Maybe?" Her voice was ominous.

"We will, definitely," said Cloud. He was nearly out. Grabbing the doorknob, Cloud called, "I love you!" before making good his escape. Automatically he locked the door as he pulled it shut; as it clicked closed behind him, Cloud sighed deeply in relief and then turned toward the inn. He jumped as the door unlocked.

"You forgot this," said Ma, holding out his mask and cap. Red with embarrassment, Cloud quickly pulled both of them on, then had to lift the mask to give his mother a kiss on the cheek. Fortunately there was no one around. "I'll see you tomorrow for dinner, Cloud. 7pm sharp."

"Yes, Ma."

"And bring a friend, if you feel like it."

"Yes, Ma." Personally Cloud couldn't think of anyone who would want to come—well, Zack might. He'd tell Zack. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, my boy."

And that was that. Cloud walked back to the inn, feeling somewhat strange and at the same time, grown-up. Two years ago, his mother had been weeping and clinging onto him, begging him not to go to the Shin-Ra. Now she was respecting his decisions, letting him do his own thing... It was nice, but it also felt weird.

His stomach full of delicious homemade food, Cloud soon felt sleepy as soon as he crossed the town square. The inn's lights were on, but it was still bright enough out that Cloud saw Tifa clearly as she came out of the inn, chatting over her shoulder with someone—one of her friends, probably. At once, Cloud's food-coma haze burnt up in a shot of pure panic. Cloud looked around desperately for something to hide behind. Nothing. Shit! Then suddenly Tifa was walking toward him, and Cloud just barely managed to stop himself from running away. God, she looked good! And he looked...

"Like a failure. Like a dumb idiot who can't get into the SOLDIER program, who is definitely NOT a SOLDIER First-Class... Who hides his face in his own hometown..."

He ducked his head and walked forward briskly, determined to get this over with as soon as possible. He would just walk by her, not engage at all, and then go get a shower and a rest. And that would be it. Maybe in five years—maybe ten—he'd finally be enough of a man to look her in the eye. Until then, Cloud swore not to look at or talk to Tifa Lockhart unless—

"Excuse me."

"Shit..." Cloud cringed as he turned to look at her. His mask was opaque to all but him, and he saw Tifa in a sort of golden haze in the setting sunlight. He would have to respond now, or look like a huge asshole.

"Yes?" He said, trying not to make his voice crack again.

"You're in the army, right?"

"Yes, I am."

Tifa bit her lip. "Do you know SOLDIERS at all?"

Uh-oh. "No."

"But you're working with two on this mission, right?"

"Right."

"So..." She scuffed her toe on the ground. "Could you ask them something for me? There's a boy from town who said he was gonna be a SOLDIER—can you ask them if they know him? Or if he made it?"

"Why do you care?" Cloud asked, unable to stop himself.

Something in his tone must have set her off, because Tifa looked at him with a bit of a glare. "Am I not supposed to?" She challenged. "He's my friend. Of course I care."

A friend? She thought he was a friend? Cloud felt weak in the knees as a hot, hard rush of sheer joy surged through his veins. He hadn't forgotten about calling her out two years ago to tell her he was leaving town, and he'd been floored when she'd actually showed up. And yet...

"You're so stupid," his nasty inner voice whispered. "That didn't mean she liked you. She probably went out on a dare. And now? You're wetting yourself over being called 'a friend'. That's sad."

It wasn't often that Cloud told his inner voice to stuff it, but now was definitely one of those times.

"Well, I can pass the message along," he said, trying to sound casual and not like a gleeful idiot. "Who do you want me to ask about?"

Tifa ducked her head. Cloud stared, unable to believe his eyes, as a fine blush bloomed in her cheeks. Tifa was unbelievably beautiful, but now Cloud felt like his insides were melting before her expression.

"His name is Cloud Strife," she said, wringing her hands a little. "He should be sixteen now. He's got blond hair and blue eyes."

"Good looking?" Cloud asked, feeling giddy. In a second, he felt good enough to yank the mask off his head and damn the consequences.

"Yeah..." Her blush intensified. "Well, he was when I saw him last. I don't know how he looks now. He might have grown up weird-looking or something."

Anxiety made Cloud's insides twist. Had he grown up weird-looking? He knew girls liked beards and moustaches, and while not having to shave was nice, what would Tifa think of the fact he had no facial hair? And that he was as thin as a rail? He'd had to cut his hair for the army too. What if she thought his hair was stupid?

"I wonder if he's made First Class yet," Tifa mused, and Cloud's innards wrenched. "He always said he would, but he kind of had a short temper and I don't know..."

Tifa nibbled on one of her nails, lost in thought, and Cloud might have gone into a spiral of angst and self-pity. However, at that moment, the inn door opened again and Cloud saw Zack poking his head out. Instantly terror seized him as Zack looked at him and opened his mouth.

"Well, I'll pass that along," Cloud babbled. "Thanks so much, Miss Lockhart. I'm sure I'll see you around. Bye now!"

And he ran before Zack could yell "Strife, get over here!" and ruin his life forever. Zack's eyebrows lifted, but he only stepped aside and let Cloud dash into the inn and up the stairs. Cloud sprinted up the stairs and tripped on the top step, sprawling on the landing and nearly hitting his head on the wall. Zack laughed and came up the stairs as Cloud pushed himself to his feet.

"What the hell was that about?" Zack asked, gesturing at Cloud's flight path.

"It's, uh… Complicated."

Zack's purple eyes glowed a bit, and a slow grin spread over his face. Waggling his eyebrows outrageously, he started elbowing Cloud in the ribs.

"Eh? Eh? Eh?"

"Quit it!" Cloud batted at Zack. Normally he hated being touched, but Zack was just so... Zack, that Cloud didn't mind at all. It was even kinda funny.

"So that's Tiiiiifa, eh?" Zack's eyebrows looked like they were about to jump off his face. "Good job, man! She's pretty cute."

"Shut up!"

"Awww, don't get like that," Zack said jovially, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "So? How is she? Still as nice as you remember?"

"...yeah," Cloud mumbled. He winced as Zack laughed. "Come on, it's not that funny."

"I'm happy for you, I'm not laughing at you," said Zack. "And just so you know, I think this is gonna be a cupcake mission. If you wanna sneak out and, ya know—I'll cover for ya."

" I don't think that's going to happen," said Cloud. "She didn't recognize me."

"Who would, with that thing over your face?" Zack flicked the mask. "Why didn't you take it off?"

"Because she thinks I'm in SOLDIER," Cloud burst out. "If she finds out I'm not—"

"Oh." Zack unlooped his arm from Cloud's shoulders. As he leaned back one hip and rubbed his chin, he said, "Well... Hmm. Just tell her you're in training."

"Can't I just borrow your uniform or something?"

Cloud instantly realized he'd said something wrong when Zack's friendly purple eyes went flat. When he spoke, his voice sounded casual, but there was something in it that made Cloud wilt a little inside with every word.

"No," Zack said firmly, almost coldly. "I don't think that would be a good idea. First off, it's illegal to impersonate a SOLDIER. Second off, you'd be lying to your girl, which is even less cool. Third off, my uniform is not a costume. I earned this, Cloud."

"I'm sorry," Cloud said, trembling. He felt six years old again, getting yelled at in school by his favorite teacher. He looked down at the ground, unable to meet the disapproval in Zack's eyes.

Then Zack put his hand on his shoulder. Cloud couldn't lift his head, but he could hear the warmth coming back into Zack's voice.

"It's alright, Cloud. You know, I believe that one day, you're gonna earn this uniform too. And you'll be able to carry yourself with the pride of a SOLDIER. I mean it." He squeezed Cloud's shoulder. "Come on. It's late. Get a shower and get to sleep. We're starting off for the reactor first thing in the morning, and our guide's meeting us at 7am."

"Guide?" Cloud looked up in surprise. "But..."

"I know, I said that too," said Zack with a shrug. "But the General wanted a guide who's been living in town, so I called around and got us one. Don't worry." His eyes started twinkling. "I think you'll like who I got."

"Who you got?" Cloud asked stupidly, and as Zack's grin widened, he gasped, "No. No! Are you serious?"

"She volunteered," said Zack with another little shrug. Chuckling a bit, he added, "I thought you'd be happy."

"I..." Cloud seized his head in both hands and shook himself. "Auuuugh, why!"

"You'll live," said Zack, laughing. "You might even score. It's all in the way you look at it."

"Easy for you to say!"

"Easy for you to do, also. If you want to." Zack glanced over his shoulder as Cloud heard footsteps. Marcon and Dreen had apparently returned. "Quick. If you run, you'll get the shower first. Go, go."

Cloud went. He would have liked to stomp, but when he went into the communal room they were all sharing, the lights were off and the General was already in bed. So Cloud tiptoed into the bathroom and took a quick shower, turning off the water whenever he could—most hot water heaters in Nibelheim were the old tank style that didn't have a lot to spare. Even with his care, the hot water ran out by the time Marcon wanted to bathe, but that just meant he bitched at Dreen instead of Cloud. Zack and Sephiroth had already taken theirs, so everyone was in bed by 10pm. It wasn't long before they all fell asleep, but Cloud stayed up for what felt like years. He stared at the ceiling, afraid to shut his eyes lest he imagine horrible ways for Tifa to discover who he was, each scenario more embarrassing and shameful than the last. The snarky part of his mind that never ever shut up noted that he was actually freaking himself out about the possibility of freaking out, and that was pretty stupid. Cloud finally fell asleep fretting about mountain winds stealing his mask, Marcon yanking it off in a fit of assholishness, and if Tifa would think he'd grown up weird after all.

/\/\/\/\/\

A/N: Writing an angry, resentful, and paranoid kind of character is a bit of a stretch for me. I normally take a positive spin on everything, so Cloud—whom I always imagine takes a negative view of neutral situations—is kind of a little bitch to write. I find myself speaking aloud whenever I write his dialogue, and usually have to repeat his lines a few times. In my mind, Cloud is not only a little paranoid, but he has a problem with his tone of voice that makes him sound perpetually angry, so people always get their hackles up in response. It's a negative feedback loop that ends in someone getting smacked.

I did like writing Cloud and his mom, though. His relationship with his mom in the game is so vague, and as I recently read on TVTropes, it's entirely likely that the one flashback scene we saw is actually an amalgamated memory from many experiences in his life. Basically, his mom said all those words at some point in time—we just don't know when.

So I ran with it a bit, making Cloud and his mom have a somewhat adversarial relationship that was tons of fun to write but also just weird. I personally don't like it when moms address their children with the half-insulting tone that I imagine Cloud's mother to have, but I guess some moms are kind of like that. However, Cloud does always interpret everything in a negative light, so maybe that insulting tone is a figment of our imaginations.

What else... Oh yeah, Zack and the uniform. For some reason, I really like that snippet of a scene. Not sure why. Proud Zack is proud.

/\/\/\/\/\


End file.
